
Glass jJi^-lAi 

Book Xl 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2010 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/csarsketchOOfrou 



C^SAR 







M S 



C ^ S AE 



A SKETCH 



BY 

JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE M. A. 

FORMERLY FELLOW OF EXETER COLLEGE OXFORD 



"Pardon, gentles all 
The flat unraised spirit that hath dared 
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth 
80 great an object." 

Shakespeare, Henry V. 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 

743-745 Broadway 






lo46i 




TroWs 

Pkinting and bookbinding Lo., 
205-213 East x^th St., 

NEW YORK. 



To 

GEOEGE BUTLER, 

IN TOKEN OF 

A FRIENDSHIP WHICH COMMENCED THIRTY-SEVEN TEARS AGO, 

WHEN WE WERE ELECTED TOGETHER FELLOWS OP OUR COLLEOB, 

WHICH HAS GROWN WITH OtJR INCREASING AGE, 

IND WILL CONTINUE, I HOPE, UNBROKEN 

AS I.ONG AS WE BOTH SHALL UVB. 



PREFACE. 



I HAVE called this work a " sketch " because the 
materials do not exist for a portrait which shall be 
at once authentic and complete. The original au- 
thorities which are now extant for the life of Caesar 
are his own writings, the speeches and letters of 
Cicero, the eighth book of the " Commentaries " on 
the wars in Gaul and the history of the Alexandrian 
war, by Aulus Hirtius, the accounts of the African 
war and of the war in Spain, composed by persons 
who were unquestionably present in those two cam- 
paigns. To these must be added the " Leges Juli^ " 
which are preserved in the Corpus Juris Civilis. 
Sallust contributes a speech, and Catullus a poem. 
A few hints can be gathered from the Epitome of 
Livy and the fragments of Varro ; and here the con- 
temporary sources which can be entirely depended 
upon are brought to an end. 

The secondary group of authorities from which 
the popular histories of the time have been chiefly 
taken are Appian, Plutarch, Suetonius, and Dion 
Cassius. Of these the first three were divided from 
the period which they describe by nearly a century 
and a half, Dion Cassius by more than two centuries. 



viii Preface. 

They Lad means of knowledge which no longer exist 
— the writings, for instance, of Asinius PoUio, who 
was one of Caesar's officers. But Asinius PoUio's 
ft.ccounts of Csesar's actions, as reported by Appian, 
cannot always be reconciled with the Commentaries ; 
and all these four writers relate incidents as facts 
which are sometimes demonstrably false. Suetonius 
is apparently the most trustworthy. His narrative, 
like those of his contemporaries, was colored by 
tradition. His biographies of the earlier Csesars 
betray the same spirit of animosity against them 
which taints the credibility of Tacitus, and prevailed 
for so many years in aristocratic Roman society. 
But Suetonius shows nevertheless an effort at ve- 
racity, an antiquarian curiosity and diligence, and a 
serious anxiety to tell his story impartially. Sueto- 
nius, in the absence of evidence direct or presump- 
tive to the contrary, I have felt myself able to fol- 
low. The other three writers I have trusted only 
when I have found them partially confirmed by evi- 
dence which is better to be relied upon. 

The picture which I have drawn will thus be 
found deficient in many details which have passed 
into general acceptance, and I have been unable to 
claim for it a higher title than that of an outline 
drawing. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

FA«a 
Free Constitutions and imperial tendencies. — Instructive- 
ness of Roman history. — Character of historical epochs. 

— The age of Coesar. — Spiritual state of Rome. — Con- 
trasts between ancient and modern civilization .... 1 

CHAPTER 11. 

The Roman Constitution. — Moral character of the Romans. 

— Roman religion. — Morality and intellect. — Expansion 
of Roman power. — The Senate. — Roman slavery. — 
Effects of intercourse with Greece. — Patrician degener- 
acy. — The Roman noble. — Influence of wealth. — Be- 
ginnings of discontent 9 

CHAPTER ni. 

Tiberius Gracchus. — Decay of the Italian yeomanry. — 
Agrarian law. — Success and murder of Gracchus — Land 
commission. — Caius Gracchus. — Transfer of judicial 
functions from the Senate to the Equites. — Sempronian 
laws. — Free grants of corn. — Plans for extension of the 
franchise. — New colonies. — Reaction. — Murder o{ Caius 
Gracchus 28 

CHAPTER IV. 

Victory of the Optimates. — The Moors. — History of Ju- 
gurtha. — The Senate corrupted. — Jugurthine war. — 
Defeat of the Romans. — Jugurtha comes to Rome. — 
Popular agitation. — The war renewed. — Roman defeats 
in Africa and Gaul. — C£ecilius Metellus and Caius Ma- 
rius. — Marriage of Marius. — The Csesars. — Marius con- 
sul. — First notice of Sylla — Capture and death of Ju- 
gurtha 35 



X Contents, 

CHAPTER V. 

PAGa 
Birth of Cicero. — The Cimbri and Teutons. — German im- 
migration into Gaul. — Great defeat of the Romans on 
the Rhone. — Wanderings of the Cimbri. — Attempted 
invasion of Italy. — Battle of Aix. — Destruction of the 
Teutons. — Defeat of the Cimbri on the Po. — Reform in 
the Roman army. — Popular disturbances in Rome. — 
Murder of Memmius. — Murder of Saturninus and Glaucia 46 

CHAPTER yi. 

Birth and childhood of Julius Csesar. — Italian franchise. — 
Discontent of the Italians. — Action of the land laws. — 
The social war. — Partial concessions. — Sylla and Ma- 
rius. — Mithridates of Pontus. — First mission of Sylla 
into Asia 55 

CHAPTER VII. 

vVar with Mithridates. — Massacre of Italians in Asia. — 
Invasion of Greece. — Impotence and coiTuption of the * 
Senate. — End of the social war. — Sylla appointed to the 
Asiatic command. — The Assembly transfer the command 
to Marius. — Sylla marches on Rome. — Flight of Ma- 
rius. — Change of the Constitution. — Sylla sails for the 
East. — Four years' absence. — Defeat of Mithridates. — 
Contemporary incidents at Rome. — Counter revolution. 

— Consulship of Cinna. — Return of Marius. — Capitula- 
tion of Rome. — Massacre of patricians and equites. — 
Triumph of Democracy 65 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The young Caesar. — Connection with Marius. — Intimacy 
with the Ciceros. — Marriage of Csesar with the daughter 
of Cinna. — Sertorius. — Death of Cinna. — Consulships 
of Norbanus and Scipio. — Sylla' s return. — First appear- 
ance of Pompey. — Civil war. — Victory of Sylla. — The 
dictatorship and the proscription. — Destruction of the 
popular party and murder of the popular leaders. — Gen- 
eral character of aristocratic revolutions. — The Constitu- 
tion remodelled. — Concentration of power in the Senate. 

— Sj'Ua's general policy. — The army. — Flight of Serto- 



Contents, xi 

FAQ a 

rius to Spain. — Pompey and Sjlla. — Caesar refuses to 
divorce his wife at Sylla's order. — Danger of Caesar. — 
His pardon. — Growing consequence of Cicero. — De- 
fence of Roscius. — Sylla's abdication and death ... 76 

CHAPTER IX. 

Sertorius in Spain. — Warning of Cicero to the patricians. 

— Leading aristocrats. — Caesar with the army in the 
East. — Nicomedes of Bithynia. — The Bithynian scan- 
dal. — Conspiracy of Lepidus. — Caesar returns to Rome. 

— Defeat of Lepidus. — Prosecution of Dolabella. — ^ae- 
sar taken by pirates. — Senatorial corruption. — Universal 
disorder. — Civil war in Spain. — Growth of Mediterra- 
nean piracy. — Connivance of the Senate. — Provincial 
administration. — Verres in Sicily. — Prosecuted by Cic- 
ero. — Second war with Mithridates. — First success of 
Lucullus. — Failure of Luculhis, and the cause of it. — 
Avarice of Roman commanders. — The gladiators. — The 
Servile War. — Results of the change in the Constitution 
introduced by Syila 99 

CHAPTER X. 

Caesar military tribune. — Becomes known as a speaker. — 
Is made quaestor. — Speech at his aunt's funeral. — Con- 
sulship of Pompey and Crassus. — Caesar marries Pom- 
pey's cousin. — Mission to Spain. — Restoration of the 
powers of the tribunes. — The Equites and the Senate. — 
The pirates. — Food supplies cut off from Rome. — The 
Gabinian law. — Resistance of the patricians. — Suppres- 
sion of the pirates by Pompey. — The Manilian law. — 
Speech of Cicero. — Recall of Lucullus. — Pompey sent 
^o command in Asia. — Defeat and death of Mithridates. 
-- Conquest of Asia by Pompey 120 

CHAPTER XL 

Iliitory of Catiline. — A candidate for the consulship. — 
Catiline and Cicero. — Cicero chosen consul. — Attaches 
himself to the senatorial party. — Csesar elected aedile. — 
Conducts an inquiry into the Syllan proscriptions. — 
Prosecution of Rabirius. — Caesar becomes Pontifex Maxi- 
mus. — And Praetor. — Cicero's conduct as consul. — 



xii Contents. 

PAOB 

Proposed Agrarian law. — Resisted by Cicero. — Catiline 
again stands for the consulship. — Violent language in 
the Senate. — Threatened revolution. — Catiline again 
defeated. — The conspiracy. — Warnings sent to Cic- 
ero. — Meeting at Catiline's house. — Speech of Cicero 
in the Senate. — Catiline joins an army of insurrection 
in Etruria. — His fellow conspirators. — Correspondence 
with the Allobroges. — Letters read in the Senate. — The 
conspirators seized. — Debate upon their fate. — Speech 
of Ccosar. — Caesar on the future state. — Speech of Cato. 

— And of Cicero. — The conspirators executed untried. 

— Death of Catiline 132 

CHAPTER Xn. 

Preparations for the return of Pompey. — Scene in the Fo- 
rum. — Cato and Metellus. — Caesar suspended from 
the prsetorship. — Caesar supports Pompey. — Scandals 
against Cjesar's private life. — General character of them. 

— Festival of the Bona Dea. — Publius Clodius enters 
Caesar's house dressed as a woman. — Prosecution and 
trial of Clodius. — His acquittal and the reason of it. — 
Successes of Caesar as pro-praetor in Spain. — Conquest of 
Lusitania. — Return of Pompey to Italy. — First speech 
in the Senate. — Precarious position of Cicero. — Cato 
and the Equites. — Caesar elected consul. — Revival of 
the democratic party. — Anticipated Agrarian law.— Un- 
easiness of Cicero 162 

CHAPTER XHI. 
The consulship of Caesar. — Character of his intended legis- 
lation. — The Land Act first proposed in the Senate. — 
Violent opposition. — Ceesar appeals to the Assembly. — 
Interference of the second consul Bibulus. — The Land 
Act submitted to the people. — Pompey and Crassus sup- 
port it. — Bibulus interposes, but without success. — The 
Act carried. — And other laws. — The Senate no longer 
being consulted. — General purpose of the Leges Juliae. — 
Caesar appointed to command in Gaul for five years. — 
His object in accepting that province. — Condition of 
Gaul and the dangers to be apprehended from it. — Alli- 
ance of Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus. — The Dynasts. — 



Contents, xiii 

PAGB 

Indignation of the aristocracy. — Threats to repeal Cas- 
sar's laws. — Necessity of controlling Cicero and Cato. — 
Clodius is made tribune. — Prosecution of Cicero for ille- 
gal acts when consul. — Cicero's friends forsake him. — 
He flies and is banished 189 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Caesar's military- narrative. — Divisions of Gaul. — Distribu- 
tion of population. — The Celts. — Degree of civilization. 

— Tribal system. — The Druids. — The ^dui and the 
Sequani. — Roman and German parties. — Intended mi- 
gration of the Helvetii. — Composition of Caesar's army. 

— He goes to Gaul. — Checks the Helvetii. — Returns to 
Italy for larger forces. — The Helvetii on the Saone. -— 
Defeated and sent back to Switzerland. — Invasion of 
Gaul by Ariovistus. — Caesar invites him to a conference. 

— He refuses. — Alarm in the Roman army. — Caesar 
marches against Ariovistus. — Interview between them. 

— Treachery of the Roman Senate. — Great battle at 
Colmar. — Defeat and annihilation of the Germans. — 
End of the first campaign. — Confederacy among the 
Belgse. — Battle on the Aisne. — War with the Nervii. — 
Battle of Maubeuge. — Capture of Namur. — The Belgae 
conquered. — Submission of Brittany. — End of the sec- 
ond campaign 214 

CHAPTER XV. 

Cicero and Clodius. — Position and character of Clodius. — 
Cato sent to Cyprus. — Attempted recall of Cicero de- 
feated by Clodius. — Fight in the Forum. — Pardon and 
return of Cicero. — Moderate speech to the people. — 
Violence in the Senate. — Abuse of Piso and Gabinius. — 
Coldness of the Senate towards Cicero — Restoration of 
Cicero's house. — Interfered with by Clodius. — Factions 
of Clodius and IVIilo. — Ptolemy Auletes expelled by his 
subjects. — Appeals to Rome for help. — Alexandrian 
envoys assassinated. — Clodius elected £edile. — Fight in 
the Forum. — Parties in Rome. — Situation of Cicero. — 
Rally of the aristocracy. — Attempt to repeal the Leges 
Juliae. — Conference at Lucca. — Caesar, Pompey, and 



xiv Contents. 



PA«» 



Crassus. — Cicero deserts the Senate. — Explains his 
motives. — Confirmation of the Ordinances of Lucca. — 
Pompey and Crassus consuls. — Caesar's command pro- 
longed for five additional years. — Rejoicings in Rome. — 
Spectacle in the amphitheatre 247 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Revolt of the Veneti. — Fleet prepared in the Loire. — Sea- 
fio-ht at Quiberon. — Reduction of Normandy and of 
Aquitaine. — Complete conquest of Gaul. — Fresh ar- 
rival of Germans over the lower Rhine. — Caesar orders 
them to retire, and promises them lands elsewhere. — 
They refuse to go. — And are destroyed. — Bridge over 
the Rhine. — C^sar invades Germany. — Returns after 
a short inroad. — First expedition into Britain. — Caesar 
lands at Deal, or Walmer. — Storm and injury to the 
fleet. — Approach of the equinox. — Further prosecution 
of the enterprise postponed till the following year. — Csb- 
ear goes to Italy for the winter. — Large naval prepara- 
tions. — Return of spring. — Alarm on the Moselle. — 
Fleet collects at Boulogne. — Caesar sails for Britain a 
second time. — Lands at Deal. — Second and more de- 
structive storm. — Ships repaired and placed out of 
danger. — Caesar marches through Kent. — Crosses the 
Thames and reaches St. Albans. — Goes no further and 
returns to Gaul. — Object of the invasion of Britain. — 
Description of the country and people . 280 

CHAPTER XYH. 

Distribution of the legions after the return from Britain. — 
Conspiracy among the Gallic chiefs. — Rising of the 
Eburones. — Destruction of Sabinus and a division of the 
Roman army. — Danger of Quintus Cicero. — Relieved 
by Caesar in person. -^General disturbance. — Labienus 
attacked at Lavacherie. — Defeats and kills Induciomarus. 
— Second conquest of the Belgae. — Caesar again crosses 
the Rhine. — Quintus Cicero in danger a second time. •— 
Courage of a Roman officer. — Punishment of the re- 
volted chiefs. — Execution of Acco 301 



Contents, xv 

CHAPTER XVIII. 



PAOS 



Correspondence of Cicero with Csesar. — Intimacy with 
Pompey and Crassus. — Attacks on Piso and Gabinius. — 
Cicero compelled to defend Gabinius. — And Vatinius. 

— Dissatisfaction with his position. — Corruption at the 
consular elections. — Public scandal. — Caesar and Pom- 
pey. — Deaths of Aurelia and Julia. — Catastrophe in 
the East. — Overthrow and death of Crassus. — Intrigue 
to detach Pompey from Caesar. — Milo a candidate for 
the consulship. — Murder of Clodius. — Burning of the 
Senate-house. — Trial and exile of Milo. — Fresh engage- 
ments with Csesar. — Promise of the consulship at the end 

of his term in Gaul 319 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Last revolt of Gaul. — Massacre of Romans at Gien. — 
Vercingetorix. — Effect on the Celts of the disturbances 
at Rome. — Caesar crosses the Cevennes. — Defeats the 
Arverni. — Joins his army on the Seine. — Takes Gien, 
Nevers, and Bourges. — Fails at Gergovia. — Rapid march 
to Sens. — Labienus at Paris. — Battle of the Vingeanne. 

— Siege of Alesia. — Caesar's double lines. — Arrival of 
the relieving army of Gauls. — First battle on the plain. 

— Second battle. — Great defeat of the Gauls. — Surren- 
der of Alesia. — Campaign against the Carnutes and the 
Bellovaci. — Rising on the Dordogne. — Capture of Uxel- 
lodunum. — Caesar at Arras. — Completion of the conquest 341 

CHAPTER XX. 

Bibulus in Syria. — Approaching term of Caesar's govern- 
ment. — Threats of impeachment. — Csesar to be consul 
or not to be consul? — Caesar's political ambition. — Ha- 
tred felt towards him by the aristocracy. — Two legions 
taken from him on pretence of service against the Par- 
thians. — Caesar to be recalled before the expiration of 
his government. — Senatorial intrigues. — Curio deserts 
the Senate. — Labienus deserts Caesar. — Cicero in Cilicia. 

— Returns to Rome. — Pompey determined on war. — 
Cicero's uncertainties. — Resolution of the Senate and 



xvi Contents, 

consuls. — Caesar recalled. — Alarm in Rome. — Alterna- 
tive schemes. — Letters of Cicero. — Caesar's crime in 
the eyes of the Optimates 368 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Caesar appeals to his army. — The tribunes join him at Rim- 
in!. — Panic and flight of the Senate. — Incapacity of 
Pompey. — Fresh negotiations. — Advance of Cassar. — 
The country districts refuse to arm against him. — Cap- 
ture of Corfinium. — Release of the prisoners. — Offers 
of Caesar. — Continued hesitation of Cicero. — Advises 
Pompey to make peace. — Pompey with the Senate and 
consuls flies to Greece. — Cicero's reflections. — Pompey 
to be another Sylla. — Caesar mortal, and may die by 
more means than one 389 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Pompey's army in Spain. — Caesar at Rome. — Departure 
for Spain. — Marseilles refuses to receive him. — Siege of 
Marseilles. — Defeat of Pompey's lieutenants at Lerida. 

— The whole army made prisoners. — Surrender of Varro. 

— Marseilles taken. — Defeat of Curio by King Juba in 
Africa. — Caesar named Dictator. — Confusion in Rome, 
— Caesar at Brindisi. — Crosses to Greece in midwinter. 

— Again offers peace. — Pompey's fleet in the Adriatic. 
Death of Bibulus. — Failure of negotiations. — Caelius 
and Milo killed. — Arrival of Antony in Greece with the 
second divisions of Caesar's army. — Siege of Durazzo. — ■ 
Defeat and retreat of Csesar. — The Senate and Pompey. 

— Pursuit of Cassar. — Battle of Pharsalia. — Flight of 
Pompey. — The camp taken. — Complete overthrow of 
the Senatorial faction. — Cicero on the situation once 



40^ 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Pompey flies to Egypt. — State of parties in Egypt. — Mur- 
dei of Pompey. — His character. — Caesar follows him to 
Alexandria. — Rising in the city. — Caesar besieged in the 
palace. — Desperate fighting. — Arrival of Mithridates 
of Pergamus. — Battle near Cairo, and death of the young 
Ptolemy. — Cleopatra. — The detention of Caesar enables 



Contents. xvii 

PAGB 

the Optiniates to rally. — 111 conduct of Caesar's officers 
in Spain. — War with Pharnaces. — Battle of Zela, and 
settlement of Asia Minor 439 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

The aristocracy raise an army in Africa. — Supported by 
Juba. — Pharsalia not to end the war. — Caesar again in 
Rome. — Restores order. — Mutiny in Caesar's army. — 
The mutineers submit. — Csesar lands in Africa. — Diffi- 
culties of the campaign. — Battle of Thapsus. — No more 
pardons. — Afranius and Faustus Sylla put to death. — 
Cato kills himself at Utica. — Scipio killed. — Jnba and 
Petreius die on each other's swords. — A scene in Csesar's 
camp 457 

CHAPTER XXY. 

Rejoicings in Rome. — Caesar Dictator for the year. ' — Re- 
forms the Constitution. — Reforms the Calendar. — And 
the criminal law. — Dissatisfaction of Cicero. — Last ef- 
forts in Spain of Labienus and the young Pompeys. — 
Csesar goes thither in person accompanied by Octavius. — 
Caesar's last battle at Munda. — Death of Labienus. — 
Capture of Cordova. — Close of the Civil War. — General 
reflections 471 

CHAPTER XXVL 

Caesar once more in Rome. — General amnesty. — The sur- 
viving Optimates pretend to submit. — Increase in the 
number of Senators. — Introduction of foreigners. — New 
colonies. — Carthage. — Corinth. — Sumptuary regula- 
tions. — Digest of the law. — Intended Parthian war. — 
Honors heaped on Caesar. — The object of them. — Cae- 
sar's indifference. — Some consolations. — Hears of con- 
spiracies, but disregards them. — Speculations of Cicero 
in the last stage of the war. — Speech in the Senate. — 
A contrast, and the meaning of it. — The Kingship. — 
Antony offers Caesar the crown, which Caesar refuses. — 
The assassins. — Who they were. — Brutus and Cassius. 
— Two officers of Csesar's among them. — Warnings. — 
Meeting of the conspirators. — Caesar's last evening. — 
The Ides of March. — The Senate-house. — Caesar killed. 486 
h 



xviii Contents, 



CHAPTER XXVn. 

Consternation in Rome. — The conspirators in the Capitol. 

— Unforeseen difficulties. — Speech of Cicero. — Cesar's 
funeral. — Speech of Antony. — Fury of the people. — 
The funeral pile in the Forum. — The King is dead, but 
the monarchy survives. — Fruitlessness of the murder. — 
Octavius and Antony. — Union of Octavius, Antony, and 
Lepidus. — Proscription of the assassins. — Philippi, and 
the end of Brutus and Cassius. — Death of Cicero. — His 
character 515 

CHAPTER XXVin. 

^General remarks on Caesar. — Mythological tendencies. — 
Supposed profligacy of Csesar. — Nature of the evidence. 

— Servilia. — Cleopatra. — Personal appearance of Cae- 
sar. — His manners in private life. — Considerations upon . 
him as a politician, a soldier, and a man of letters. — \J 

- -^ Practical justice his chief aim as a politician. — Univer- 
sality of military genius. — Devotion of his army to him, 
how deserved. — Art of reconciling conquered peoples. — 
General scrupulousness and leniency. — Oratorical and 
literary style. — Cicero's description of it. — His lost 
works. — Cato's judgment on the Civil War. — How Csb- 
sar should be estimated. %- Legend of Charles V. — Spir- 
itual condition of the age in which Caesar lived. — His 
work on earth to establish order and good government, A^ 
to make possible the introduction of Christianity. — A 
parallel 6S*1 



C^SAR: A SKETCH, 



CHAPTER I. 

To the student of political history and to the Eng- 
lish student above all others, the conversion of the 
Roman Republic into a military empire commands a 
peculiar interest. Notwithstanding many differences, 
the English and the Romans essentially resemble one 
another. The early Romans possessed the faculty of 
self-government beyond any people of whom we have 
historical knowledge, with the one exception of our- 
selves. In virtue of their temporal freedom, they be- 
came the most powerful nation in the known world ; 
and their liberties perished only when Rome became 
the mistress of conquered races, to whom she was un- 
able or unwilling to extend her privileges. If Eng- 
land was similarly supreme, if all rival powers were 
eclipsed by her or laid under her feet, the imperial 
tendencies, which are as strongly marked in us as our 
love of liberty, might lead us over the same course to 
the same end. If there be one lesson which history 
clearly teaches, it is this, that free nations cannot 
govern subject provinces. If they are unable or un- 
willing to admit their dependencies to share their 
own constitution, the constitution itself will fall in 
pieces from mere incompetence for its duties. 

We talk often foolishly of the necessities of things, 



2 CcBsar. 

and we blame circumstances for the consequences of 
our own follies and vices ; but there are faults which 
are not faults of will, but faults of mere inadequacy 
to some unforeseen position. Human nature is equal 
to much, but not to everything. It can rise to alti- 
tudes where it is alike unable to sustain itself or to 
retire from them to a safer elevation. Yet when the 
field is open it pushes forward, and moderation in the 
pursuit of greatness is never learnt and never will be 
learnt. Men of genius are governed by their in- 
stinct ; they follow where instinct leads them ; and 
the public life of a nation is but the life of successive 
generations of statesmen, whose horizon is bounded, 
and who act from day to day as immediate interests 
suggest. The popular leader of the hour sees some 
present difficulty or present opportunity of distinc- 
tion. He deals with each question as it arises, leav- 
ing future consequences to those who are to come 
after him. The situation changes from period to 
period, and tendencies are generated with an acceler- 
ating force, which, when once established, can never 
be reversed. When the control of reason is once re- 
moved, the catastrophe is no longer distant, and then 
nations, like all organized creations, all forms of life, 
from the meanest flower to the highest human insti- 
tution, pass through the inevitably recurring stages 
of growth and transformation and decay. A com- 
monwealth, says Cicero, ought to be immortal, and 
forever to renew its youth. Yet commonwealths 
have proved as unenduring as any other natura] 
object : — 

Everything that grows 
Holds in perfection but a little moment, 

And this huge state presenteth nought but shows, 
Whereon the stars in silent influence couiinenu 



Conditions of National Life. 3 

Nevertheless, " as the heavens are high above the 
earth, so is wisdom above folly." Goethe compares 
life to a game at whist, where the cards are dealt out 
by destiny, and the rules of the game are fixed : sub- 
ject to these conditions, the players are left to win 
or lose, according to their skill or want of skill. Tlie 
life of a nation, like the life of a man, may be pro- 
longed in honor into the fulness of its time, or it may 
perish prematurely, for want of guidance, by violence 
or internal disorders. And thus the history of na- 
tional revolutions is to statesmanship what the pathol- 
ogy of disease is to the art of medicine. The physi- 
cian cannot arrest the coming on of age. Where 
disease has laid hold upon the constitution he cannot 
expel it. But he may check the progress of the 
evil if he can recognize the symptoms in time. He 
can save life at the cost of an unsound limb. He 
can tell us how to preserve our health when we have 
it; he can warn us of the conditions under which 
particular disorders will have us at disadvantage. 
And so with nations: amidst the endless variety of 
circumstances there are constant phenomena which 
give notice of approaching danger ; there are courses 
of action which have uniformly produced the same 
results ; and the wise politicians are those who have 
learnt from experience the real tendencies of things, 
un misled by superficial differences, who can shun the 
rocks where others have been wrecked, or from fore- 
sight of what is coming can be cool when the peril is 
upon them. 

For these reasons, the fall of the Roman Republic 
is exceptionally instructive to us. A constitutional 
government the most enduring and the most power- 
ful that ever existed was put on its trial, and found 



4 OcBsar, 

wanting. We see it in its growth ; we see the causes 
which undermined its strength. We see attempts to 
check the growing mischief fail, and we see why they 
failed. And we see, finally, when nothing seemed 
so likely as complete dissolution, the whole system 
changed by a violent operation, and the dying pa- 
tient's life protracted for further centuries of power 
and usefulness. 

Again, irrespective of the direct teaching which 
we may gather from them, particular epochs in his« 
tory have the charm for us which dramas have — 
periods when the great actors on the stage of life 
stand before us with the distinctness with which they 
appear in the creations of a poet. There have not 
been many such periods; for to see the past, it is not 
enough for us to be able to look at it through the 
eyes of contemporaries ; these contemporaries them- 
selves must have been parties to the scenes which 
they describe. They must have had full opportuni- 
ties of knowledge. They must have had eyes which 
could see things in their true proportions. They 
must have had, in addition, the rare literary powers 
which can convey to others through the medium of 
language an exact picture of* their own minds ; and 
such happy combinations occur but occasionally" in 
thousands of years. Generation after generation 
passes by, and is crumbled into sand as rocks are 
crumbled by the sea. Each brought with it its he- 
roes and its villains, its triumphs and its sorrows ; 
but the history is formless legend, incredible and un- 
intelligible ; the figures of the actors are indistinct as 
the rude ballad or ruder inscription, which may be 
the only authentic record of them. We do not see 
the men and women, we see only the outlines of thera 



Teachings of History. 6 

which have been woyen into tradition as ttte;y Ap- 
peared to the lovos or hatreds of passionate admirers 
or enemies. Of such times we know nothing, save 
the broad results as they are measured from century 
to century, with here and there some indestructible 
pebble, some law, some fragment of remarkable 
poetry which has resisted decomposition. These pe- 
riods are the proper subject of the philosophic his- 
torian, and to him we leave them. But there are 
others, a few, at which intellectual activity was as 
great as it is now, with its written records surviving, 
in which the passions, the opiuions, the ambitions of 
the age, are all before us, where the actors in the 
great drama speak their own thoughts in their own 
words, where we hear their enemies denounce them 
and their friends praise them ; where we are our- 
selves plunged amidst the hopes and fears of the 
hour, to feel the conflicting emotions and to sympa- 
thize in the struggles which again seem to live : and 
here philosophy is at fault. Philosophy, when we 
are face to face with real men, is as powerless as over 
the Iliad or King Lear. The overmastering human 
interest transcends explanation. We do not sit in 
judgment on the right or the wrong; we do not seek 
out causes to account for what takes place, feeling 
too conscious of the inadequacy of our analysis. We 
see human beings possessed by different impulses, 
and working out a preordained result, as the subtle 
forces drive each along the path marked out for him ; 
and history, becomes the more impressive to us where 
it least immediately instructs. 

With such vividness, with such transparent clear- 
ness the age stands before us of Cato and Ponipey, 
of Cicero and Julius Csesar ; the more distinctly be- 



6 Qcesar. 

cause it was an age in so many ways the counterpart 
of our own, the blossoming period of the old civiliza- 
tion, when the intellect was trained to the highest 
point which jt could reach, and on the great subjects 
of human interest, on mDrals and politics, on poetry 
and art, even on religion itself and the speculative 
problems of life, men thought as we think, doubted 
where we doubt, argued as we argue, aspired and 
struggled after the same objects. It was an age of 
material progress and material civilization ; an age of 
civil liberty and intellectual culture ; an age of pam- 
phlets and epigrams, of salons and of dinner parties, of 
senatorial majorities and electoral corruption. The 
highest oflS-ces of state were open in theory to the 
meanest citizen ; they were confined, in fact, to those 
who had the longest purses, or the most ready use of 
the tongue on popular platforms. Distinctions of 
birth had been exchanged for distinctions of wealth. 
The struggles between plebeians and patricians for 
equality of privilege were over, and a new division 
had been formed between the party of property and 
a party who desired a change in the structure of so- 
ciety. The free cultivators were disappearing from 
the soil. Italy was being absorbed into vast estates, 
held ly a few favored families and cultivated by 
slaves, while the old agricultural population was 
driven off the land, and was crowded into towns. 
The rich were extravagant, for life had ceased to 
have practical interest, except for its material pleas- 
ures ; the occupation of the higher classes was to ob- 
tain money without labor, and to spend it in idle 
enjoyment. Patriotism survived on the lips, but pa- 
triotism meant the ascendency of the party which 
would maintain the existing order of things, or would 



^ Ancient and Modem Civilization contrasted. 7 

overthrow it for a more equal distribution of the good 
thiiio\s wliich alone were valued. Reliij^ion, once the 
foundation of the hiws and rule of personal conduct, 
had subsided into opinion. The educated, in their 
hearts, disbelieved it. Temples were still built with 
increasing splendor; the established forms were seru- 
puloiisl}^ observed. Public men spoke conventionally 
of Providence, that they might throw on their op- 
ponents the odium of impiety ; but of genuine belief 
that life had any serious meaning, there was none re- 
maining beyond the circle of the silent, patient, igno- 
rant multitude. The whole spiritual atmosphere was 
saturated with cant — cant moral, cant political, cant 
religious ; an affectation of high principle which had 
ceased to touch the conduct, and flowed on in an in- 
creasing volume of insincere and unreal speech. The 
truest thinkers were those who, like Lucretius, spoke 
frankly out their real convictions, declared that Prov- 
idence was a dream, and that man and the world he 
lived in were material phenomena, generated by nat- 
ural forces out of cosmic atoms, and into atoms to be 
again resolved. 

Tendencies now in operation may a few generations 
hence land modern society in similar conclusions, un- 
less other convictions revive meanwhile and get the 
mastery of them ; of which possibility no more need 
be said than this, that unless there be such a revival 
in some shape or other, the forces, whatever they be, 
which control the forms in which human things ad- 
just themselves, will maJ5e an end again, as they made 
a^nendbefore, oF*wKrare^'^caffe^**Tree^ 
T^puTartonnsof government are possible only when 
individual men can govern their own lives on moral 
principles, and when duty is of more importance than 



8 Ccesar, 

pleasure, and justice than material expediency. Kome 
at any rate had grown ripe for judgment. The shape 
which the judgment assumed was due perhaps, in a 
measure, to a condition which has no longer a paraUel 
among us. The men and women by whom the hard 
work of the world was done were chiefly slaves, and 
those who constitute the driving force of revolutions 
in modern Europe, la}^ then outside society, unable 
and perhaps uncaring to affect its fate. No change 
then possible would much influence the prospects of 
the unhappy bondsmen. The triumph of the party 
of the constitution would bring no liberty to them. 
That their masters should fall like themselves under 
the authority of a higher master could not much dis- 
tress them. Their sympathies, if they had any, would 
go with those nearest their own rank, the emancipated 
slaves and the sons of those who were emancipated ; 
and they, and the poor free citizens everywhere, were 
to a man on the side which. was considered and was 
called the side of " the people," and was, in fact, the 
side of despotism. 



CHAPTER 11. 

The Roman Coiistitution had groTvn out of the 
character of the Roman nation. It was popular in 
form beyond all constitutions of which there is any 
record in history. The citizens assembled in the 
Comitia were the sovereign authority in the State, 
and. they exercised their power immediately and not 
by representatives. The executive magistrates were 
chosen annually. The assembly was the supreme 
Court of Appeal ; and without its sanction no free- 
man could be lawfully put to death. In the assembly 
also was the supreme power of legislation. Any 
consul, any praetor, any tribune, might propose a law 
from the Rostra to the ])eople. The people if it 
pleased them might accept such law, and senators 
and public officers might be sworn to obey it under 
pains of treason. As a check on precipitate resolu- 
tions, a single consul or a single tribune might in- 
terpose his veto. But the veto was binding only so 
long as the year of office continued. If the people 
were m earnest, submission to their wishes could be 
made a condition at the next election, and thus no 
constitutional means existed of resisting them w^hen 
these wishes showed themselves. 

In normal times the Senate was allow^ed the privi- 
lege of preconsidering intended acts of legislation, 
and refusing to recommend them if inexpedient, but 
the privilege was only converted into a right after 
violent convulsions, and was never able to maintain 



10 Ccemr, 

itself. That under such a system the functious of 
government could have been carried on at all was 
due entirely to the habits of self-restraint, which the 
Komans had engraved into their nature. They were 
called a nation of kings, kings over their own ap- 
petites, passions, and inclinations. They were not 
imaginative, they were not intellectual ; they had 
little national poetry, little art, little philosophy. 
They were moral and practical. In these two direc- 
tions the force that was in them entirely ran. They 
were free politically, because freedom meant to them, 
not freedom to do as they pleased, bat freedom tp do 
what was right ; and every citizen, before he arrived 
at his civil privileges, had been schooled in the disci- 
pline of obedience. Each head of a household was 
absolute master of it, master over his cliildren and 
servants, even to the extent of life and death. What 
the father was to the family, the gods were to the 
whole people, the awful lords and rulers at whose 
pleasure they lived and breathed. Unlike the 
Greeks, the reverential Romans invented no idle 
legends about the supernatural world. The gods to 
them were the guardians of the State, whose will 
in all things they were bound to seek and to obey. 
The forms in which they endeavored to learn what 
that will might be were childish or childlike. They 
looked to signs in the sk}^, to thunder-storms and 
^somets and shooting stars. Birds, winged messen- 
gers, as they thought them, between earth and heaven, 
were celestial indicators of the gods' commands. But 
omens and auguries were but the outward symbols, 
and the Romans, like all serious peoples, went to 
their own hearts for their real guidance. They had 
a unique religious peculiarity, to which no race of 



Moral Character of the Romans. 11 

men has produced anything like. They did not em- 
body the elemental forces in personal forms ; they 
did not fashion a theology out of the movements of 
the sun and stars or the changes of tlie seasons. 
Traces may be found among them of cosmic tradi- 
tions and superstitions, which were common to all the 
world; but they added of their own this especial 
feature : that they built temples and offered sacrifices 
to the highest human excellences, to ''Valor," to 
"Truth," to "Good Faith," to "Modesty," to 
"Charity," to "Concord." In these qualities lay all 
that raised man above the animals with which he 
had so much in common. In them, therefore, were 
to be found the link wdiich connected him with the 
Divine nature, and moral qualities were regarded as 
Divine influences which gave his life its meaning and 
its worth. The " Virtues " were elevated into beings 
to whom disobedience could be punished as a crime, 
and the superstitious fears whicli run so often into 
mischievous idolatries were enlisted with conscience 
in the direct service of right action. 

On the same principle the Romans chose the he- 
roes and heroines of their national history. The 
Manlii and Valerii were patterns of courage, the Lu- 
cretias and Virginias of purity, the Decii and Curtii 
of patriotic devotion, the Reguli and Fabricii of stain-" 
less truthfulness. On the same principle, too, they 
had a pubhc officer whose functions resembled those 
of the Church courts in mediaeval Europe, a Censor 
Morum, an inquisitor who might examine into the 
habits of private families, rebuke extravagance, check 
luxury, punish vice and self-indulgence, nay, who 
could remove from the Senate, the great council of 
elders, persons whose moral conduct was a reproach 



12 Ccesar. 

fco a body on whose reputation no shadow could be al- 
lowed to rest. 

Such the Romans were in the day when their do- 
minion bad not extended beyond the limits of Italy; 
and because they were such they were able to prosper 
under a constitution wdiich to modern experience 
would promise only the most hopeless confusion. 

Morality thus ingrained in the national character 
and grooved into habits of action creates strength, as 
nothing else creates it. The difficulty of conduct does 
not lie in knowing what it is right to do, but in 
doing it when knowm. Intellectual culture does not 
touch the conscience. It provides no motives to over- 
come the weakness of the will, and with wider knowl- 
edge it brings also nev/ temptations. The sense of 
duty is present in each detail of life; the obligatory 
"must" which binds the will to the course which 
right principle has marked out for it, produces a fibre, 
like the fibre of the oak. The educated Greeks knew 
little of it. They had courage, and genius, and en- 
thusiasm, but they had no horror of immorality as 
such. The Stoics saw what was wanting, and tried 
to supply it ; but though they could provide a theory 
of action, they could not make the theory into a real- 
ity, and it is noticeable that Stoicism as- a rule of life 
became important only when adopted by the Romans. 
The Catholic Church effected something in its better 
days when it had its courts which treated sins as 
crimes. Calvinism, while it was believed, produced 
characters nobler and grander than any which Re- 
publican Rome produced. But the Catholic Church 

irned its penances into money payments. Calvin- 
ism made demands on faithl3eyond whal*truth would 
bear • and when doubt had once entered, the spell of 



Morality and Intellect. 13 

Calvinism was broken. The veracity of the Romans, 
and perhaps the happy accident that they Lfxd no in- 
herited religious traditions, saved them ^or centuries 
from similar trials. They had hold of real truth un- 
alloyed with baser metal ; and truth had made them 
free and kept them so. When all else has passed 
away, when theologies have yielded up their real 
meaning, and creeds and symbols have become trans- 
parent, and man is again in contact with the hard 
facts of nature, it will be found that the ''Virtues" 
which the Romans made into gods contain in them 
the essence of true religion, that in them lies the 
special characteristic which distinguishes human be- 
ings from the rest of animated things. Every other 
creature exists for itself, and cares for its own preser- 
vation. Nothing larger or better is expected from it 
or possible to it. To man it is said, you do not live for 
yourself. If yoii live for yourself you shall come to 
nothing. Be brave, be just, be pure, be true in word 
and deed ; care not for your enjoyment, care not for 
your life ; care only for what is right. So, and not 
otherwise, it shall be well with you. So the Maker of 
you has ordered, whom you will disobey at your peril. 
Thus and thus only are nations formed which are 
destined to endure ; and as habits based on such con- 
victions are slow in growing, so when grown to ma- 
turity they survive extraordinary trials. But nations 
are made up of many persons in circumstances of 
endless variety. In country districts, where the rou- 
tine of life continues simple, the type of character 
remains unaffected ; generation follows on generation 
exposed to the same influences and treading in the 
same steps. But the morality of habit, though the 
most important element in human conduct, is still but 



14 Ccesar, 

a parfc of it. Moral habits grow under given condi- 
tions. They correspond to a given degree of temp- 
tation. When men are removed into situations where 
the use and wont of their fathers no longer meets 
their necessities ; where new opportunities are offered 
to them ; where their opuiions are broken in upoa 
by new ideas ; where pleasures tempt them on every 
side, and they have but to stretch out their hand to 
take them ; moral habits yield under the strain, and 
they have no other resource to fall back upon. In- 
tellectual cultivation brings with it rational interests. 
Knowledge, which looks before and after, acts as a 
restraining power, to help conscience when it flags. 
The sober and wholesome manners of life anions: 
the early Romans had given them vigorous minds in 
vigorous bodies. The animal nature had grown as 
strongly as the moral nature, and along with it the 
animal appetites; and when appetites burst their tra- 
ditionary restraints, and man in himself has no other 
notion of enjoyment beyond bodily pleasure, he may 
pass by an easy transition into a mere powerful brute. 
And thus it happened with the higher classes at Rome 
after the destruction of Carthage. Italy had fallen 
to them by natural and wholesome expansion ; but 
from being sovereigns of Italy, they became a race 
of imperial conquerors. Suddenly and in compara- 
tively a few years after the one power was gone which 
could resist them, they became the actual or virtual 
rulers of the entire circuit of the Mediterranean. 
The southeast of Spain, the coast of France from 
the Pyrenees to Nice, the north of Italy, lUyria and 
Greece, Sardinia, Sicily, and the Greek Islands, the 
southern and western shores of Asia Minor, were Ro- 
man provinces, governed directly under Roman mag- 



JEJxpansion of Romayi Power. 15 

istrates. On the African side Mauritania (Morocco) 
was still free* Numiclia (the modern Algeria) re- 
tained its native dynasty, but was a Roman de- 
pendency. The Carthaginian dominions, Tunis and 
Tripoli, had been annexed to the Empire. The in- 
terior of Asia Minor np to the Euphrates, with Syria 
and Egypt, were under sovereigns called Allies, but, 
like the native princes in India, subject to a Roman 
protectorate. Over this enormous territory, rich with 
the accumulated treasures of centuries, and inhabited 
b}^ thriving, industrious races, the energetic Roman 
men of business had spread and settled themselves, 
gathering into their hands the trade, the financial 
administration, the entire commercial control of 
the Mediterranean basin. They had been trained in 
thrift and economy, in abhorrence of debt, in strictest 
habits of close and careful management. Their frugal 
education, their early lessons in the value of money, 
good and excellent as those lessons were, led them, as 
a matter of course, to turn to account their extraor- 
dinary opportunities. Governors with their staffs, 
permanent officials, contractors for, the revenue, nego- 
tiators, bill-brokers, bankers, merchants, were scattered 
everywhere in thousands. Money poured in upon 
them in rolling streams of gold. The largest share 
of the spoils fell to the Senate and the senatorial fam- 
ilies. The Senate was the permanent Council of 
State, and was the real administrator of the Empire. 
The Senate had the control of the treasury, conducted 
the public policy, appointed from its own ranks the 
governors of the provinces. It was patrician in sen- 
timent, but not necessarily patrician in composition. 
The members of it had virtually been elected for life 
by the people, and were almost entirely those who had 



16 Ccesar, 

been qusestors, sedlles, praetors, or consuls ; and these 
offices had been long open to the plebeians. It was 
an aristocracy, in theory a real one, But tending to 
become, as civilization went forward, an aristocracy 
of the rich. How the senatorial privileges affected 
the management of the provinces will be seen more 
particularly as we go on. It is enough at present to 
say that the nobles and great commoners of Rome 
rapidly found themselves in possession of revenues 
■which their fathers could not have imagined in their 
dreams, and money in the stage of progress at which 
Kome had arrived was convertible into power. 

The opportunities opened for men to advance their 
fortunes in other parts of the world drained Italy of 
many of its most enterprising citizens. The grand- 
sons of the yeomen who had held at bay Pyrrhus knd 
Hannibal sold their farms and went away. The small 
holdings merged rapidly into large estates bought up 
by the Roman capitalists. At the final settlement of 
Italy, some millions of acres had been reserved to the 
State as public property. The " public land," as the 
reserved portion was called, had been leased on easy 
terms to families with political influence, and by lapse 
of time, by connivance and right of occupation, 
these families were beginning to regard their tenures 
as their private property, and to treat them as lords 
of manors in England have treated the " commons." 
Thus everywhere the small farmers were disappear- 
ing, and the soil of Italy was fast passing into the 
hands of a few territorial magnates, who, unfort- 
unately (for it tended to aggravate the mischief), 
were enabled by another cause to turn their vast pos- 
sessions to advantage. The conquest of the world 
had turned the flower of the defeated nations into 



Jtoman Slavery. 17 

slaves. The prisoners taken either after a battle, or 
when cities surrendered unconditionally, were bought 
up steadily by contractors who followed in the rc-ar 
of the Roman armies. They were nob ignorant likfj 
the negroes, but trained, useful, and often educated 
men, Asiatics, Greeks, Thracians, Gauls, and Span- 
iards, able at once to turn their hands to some forr/i 
of skilled labor, either as clerks, mechanics, or farm 
servants. The great land-owners might have paused 
in their purchases had the alternative lain before 
them of letting their lands lie idle or of having free- 
men to cultivate them. It was otherwise when a 
resource so convenient and so abundant was opened 
at their feet. The wealthy Romans bought slaves 
by thousands. Some they employed in their work- 
shops in the capital. Some they spread over their 
plantations, covering the country, it might be, v/itli 
olive gardens and vineyards, swelling further the 
plethoric figures of their owners' incomes. It was 
convenient for the few, but less convenient for the 
Commonwealth. The strens^th of Rome was in her 
free citizens. Where a family of slaves was settled 
down, a village of freemen had disappeared ; the 
material for the legions diminished ; the dregs of the 
free population which remained behind crowded into 
Rome, without occupation, except in politics, and 
with no property save in their votes, of course to be- 
come the clients of the millionnaires, and to sell 
themselves to the highest bidders. With all his 
wealth there were but two things which the Roman 
noble could buy — political power and luxury, — and 
in these directions his whole resources were expended. 
The elections, once pure, became matters of annual 
bargain between himself and his supporters. The 

2 



18 Ccesar, 

once hardy, abstemious mode of living degenerated 
into grossness and sensuality. 

And his character was assailed simultaneously on 
another side with equally mischievous effect. The 
conquest of Greece brought to Rome a taste for knowl- 
edge and culture; but the culture seldom passed 
below the surface, and knowledge bore but the old 
fruit which it had borne in Eden. The elder Oato 
used to say that the Komans were like their slaves — 
the less Greek they knew the better they were. 
They had believed in the gods with pious simplicity. 
The Greeks introduced them to an Olympus of di- 
vinities whom the practical Roman found that he 
must either abhor or deny to exist. The " Virtues " 
which he had been taught to reverence had no place 
among the graces of the new theology. Reverence 
Jupiter he could not, and it was easy to persuade 
him that Jupiter was an illusion ; that all religions 
were but the creations of fancy, his own among them. 
Gods there might be, airy beings in the deeps of 
space, engaged like men with their own enjoyments ; 
but to suppose that these high spirits fretted them- 
selves with the affairs of the puny beings that 
crawled upon the earth was a delusion of vanity. 
Thus, while morality was assailed on one side by ex- 
traordinary temptations, the religious sanction of it 
was undermined on the other. The Romans ceased 
to believe, and in losing their faith they became as 
steel becomes when it is demagnetized : the spiritual 
quality was gone out of them, and the high society 
of Rome itself became a society of powerful animals 
with an enormous . appetite for pleasure. Wealth 
poured in more and more, and luxury grew more un- 
bounded. Palaces sprang up in the city, castles ia 



The Roman Nohle, 19 

the country, villas at pleasant places by the sea, and 
parks, and fish-ponds, and game preserves, and 
gardens, and vast rethiues of servants. When nat- 
ural pleasures had been indulged in to satiety, pleas- 
ures which were against nature were imported from 
the East to stimulate the exhausted appetite. To 
make money — money by any means, lawful or un- 
lawful — became the universal passion. Even the 
most cultivated patricians were coarse alike in their 
habits and their amusements. They cared for art as 
dilettanti, but no schools either of sculpture or paint- 
ing were formed among themselves. They decorated 
their porticoes and their saloons with the plunder of 
the East. The stage was never more than an ar- 
tificial taste with them ; their delight was the delight 
of barbarians, in spectacles, in athletic exercises, in 
horse-races and chariot races, in the combats of wild 
animals in the circus, combats of men with beasts on 
choice occasions, and, as a rare excitement, in fights 
between men and men, when select slaves trained as 
gladiators were matched in pairs to kill each other. 
Moral habits are all-sufl&cient while they last ; but 
with rude strong natures they are but chains which 
hold the passions prisoners. Let the chain break, and 
the released brute is but the more powerful for evil 
from the force which his constitution has inherited. 
Money ! the cry was still money ! — money was the 
one thought from the highest senator to the poorest 
wretch who sold his vote in the Comitia. For money, 
judges gave unjust decrees and juries gave corrupt 
Verdicts. Governors held their provinces for one, 
two, or three years ; they went out bankrupt from 
extra^^'agance, they returned with millions for fresh 
riot. To obtain a province was the first ambition 



20 Ccesar, 

xyi a Roman noble. The road to it lay through the 
prsetorship and the consulship ; these offices, there- 
fore, became the prizes of the State ; and being in 
the gift of the people, they were sought after by 
means which demoralized alike the givers and the re-- 
ceivers. The elections were managed hj clubs and 
coteries ; and, except on occasions of national danger 
or political excitement, those who spent most freely 
were most certain of success. 

Under these conditions the chief powers in the Com- 
monwealth necessarily centred in the rich. There 
was no longer an aristocracy of birth, still less of 
virtue. The patrician families had the start in the 
race. Grea.t names and great possessions came to 
them by inheritance. But the door of promotion 
was open to all Avho had the golden key. . The great 
commoners bought their way into the magistracies. 
From the magistracies they passed into the Senate ; 
and the Roman senator, though in Rome itself and 
in free debate among his colleagues he was Bandied 
as an ordinar}^ man, when he travelled had the honors 
of a sovereign. The three hundred senators of Rome 
were three hundred princes. They moved about in 
other countries with the rights of legates, at the ex- 
pense of the province, with their trains of slaves and 
horses. The proud privilege of Roman citizenship 
was still jealously reserved to Rome itself and to a 
few favored towns and colonies ; and a mere subject 
could maintain no rights against a member of the 
haughty oligarchy which controlled the civilized 
world. Such generally the Roman Republic had be= 
come, or was tending to become, in the years which 
followed the fall of Carthage, B. C. 146. Public 
spirit in the masses was dead or sleeping ; the Coni' 



Beginnings of Discontent. 21 

monwealtli was a plutocracy. The free forms of tlie 
constitution were themselves the instruments of cor- 
ruption. The rich were happy in the possession of 
all that they could desire. The multitude was kept 
quiet by the morsels of meat which were flung to it 
when it threatened to be troublesome. The seven 
thousand in Israel, the few who in all states and in 
all times remain pure in the midst of evil, looked on 
with disgust, fearing that any remedy which tliey 
might try might be worse than the disease. All or- 
ders in a society may be wise and virtuous, but all 
cannot be rich. Wealth which is used only for idle 
luxury is always envied, and envy soon curdles into 
hate. It is easy to persuade the masses that the good 
things of this world are unjustly divided, especially 
when it happens to be the exact truth. It is not 
easy to set limits to an agitation once set on foot, 
however justly it may have been provoked, when the 
cry for change is at once stimulated by interest and 
can disguise its real character under the passionate 
language of patriotism. But it was not to be ex- 
pected that men of noble natures, young men espe- 
cially whose enthusiasm had not been cooled by expe- 
rience, would sit calmly by while their country was 
going thus headlong to perdition. Redemption, if re- 
demption was to be hoped for, could come only from 
free citizens in the country districts whose manners 
and whose minds were still uncontaminated, in whom 
the ancient habits of life still survived, who still be- 
lieved in the gods, who were contented to follow the 
wholesome round of honest labor. The numbers of 
Buch citizens were fast dwindling away before the 
omnivorous appetite of the rich for territorial aggran- 
dizement. To rescue the land from the monopohsts, 



22 Ccesar. 

to renovate the old independent yeomanry, to pre- 
vent the free population of Italy, out of which the 
legions had been formed which had built up the Em- 
pire, from being pushed out of their places and sup- 
planted by foreign slaves, this, if it could be done, 
would restore the purity of the constituency, snatch 
the elections from the control of corruption, and rear 
up fresh generations of peasant soldiers to preserve 
the liberties and the glories which their fathers had 
won. 



CHAPTER III. - ^ 

TiBEKius Gracchus was born about the year 1G4 
B. c. He was one of twelve children, nine of whom 
died in infanc}^, himself, his brother Caius, and his 
sister Cornelia being the only survivors. His family 
was plebeian, but of high antiquity, his ancestors for 
several generations having held the highest ofhces 
in the Republic. On the mother's side he was the 
grandson of Scipio Africanus. His father, after a 
distinguished career as a soldier in Spain and Sar- 
dinia, had attempted reforms at Rome. He had been 
censor, and in this capacity he had ejected disreputa- 
ble senators from the Curia ; he had degraded of- 
fending Equites ; he had rearranged and tried to 
purify the Comitia. But his connections were aris- 
tocratic. His wife was the daughter of the most il- 
lustrious of the Scipios. His own daughter was 
married to the second most famous of them, Scipio 
Africanus the Younger. He had been himself in an- 
tagonism with the tribunes, and had taken no part at 
any time in popular agitations. 

The father died when Tiberius was still a boy, 
and the two brothers grew up under the care of 
their mother, a noble and gifted lady. They dis- 
played early remarkable talents. Tiberius, Avhen old 
enough, went into the army, and served under his 
brother-in-law in the last Carthaginian campaign. 
He was first on the walls of the city in the final 
«torm. Ten years later he went to Spain as Quses- 



24 - Ccesar. 

tor, where lie carried on his father's populant}^, and 
by taking the people's side in some questions fell into 
disagreement with his brother-in-law. His political 
viewvi had perhaps already inclined to change. He 
Vv^as still of an age when indignation at oppression 
calls out a practical desire to resist it. On his jour- 
ney home from Spain he wituessed scenes which con- 
firmed his conviction and determined him to throw 
all his energies into the popular cause. His road lay 
through Tuscany, where he saw the large estate sys- 
tem in full operation — the fields cultivated by the 
slave gangs, the fre§, citizens of the Republic thrust 
away into the towns, aliens and outcasts in their own 
.country, without a foot of soil which they could call 
their own. In Tuscany, too, the vast domains of the 
landlords had not even been fairly purchased. They 
were parcels of the ager puhlicus^ land belonging to 
the State, which, in spite of a law forbidding it, 
the great lords and commoners had appropriated and 
divided among themselves. Five hundred acres of 
State land was the most which by statute any one 
lessee might be allowed to occupy. But the law was 
obsolete or sleeping, and avarice and vanity were 
awake and active. Young Gracchus, in indignant 
pity, resolved to rescue the people's patrimony. He- 
was chosen tribune in the year lo3. His brave 
niother and a few patricians of the old type encour- 
aged him, and the battle of the revolution began. 
The Senate, as has been said, though without direct 
legislative authority, had been allowed the right of 
reviewing any new schemes which were to be sub- 
mitted to the assembly. The constitutional means 
of preventing tribunes from carrying unwise or un- 
welcome measures lay in a consul's veto, or in the 



The G-raccM, 25 

hel23 of the College of Augurs, who could declare 
the auspices unfavorable, and so close all public busi- 
ness. These resources were so awkward that it had 
been found convenient to secure beforehand the Sen- 
ate's approbation, and the encroachment, being long 
submitted to, was passing by custom into a rule. 
But the Senate, eager as it was, had not yet suc- 
ceeded in engrafting the practice into the constitu- 
tion. On the land question the leaders of the aris- 
tocracy were the principal offenders. Disregarding 
usage, and conscious that the best men of all ranks 
were with him, Tiberius Gracchus appealed directly 
to the people to revive the Agrarian law. His pro- 
posals were not extravagant. That they should have 
been deemed extravagant was a proof of how much 
some measure of the kind was needed. Where lands 
had been inclosed and money laid out on tlieni he 
was willing that the occupants should have compen- 
sation. But they had no right to the lands them- 
selves. Gracchus persisted that the a^e?' puhlicus 
belonged to the people, and that the race of yeomen, 
for whose protection the law had been originally 
passed, must be reestablished on their farms. No 
form of property gives to its owners so much conse- 
quence as land, and there is no point on which in 
every country an aristocracy is more sensitive. The 
large owners protested that they had purchased their 
interests on the faith that the law was obsolete. 
They had planted and built and watered with the 
sanction of the Government, and to call their titles in 
question was to shake the foundations of society. 
The popular party pointed to the statute. The mo- 
«3opolists were entitled in justice to less than was 
offered them. They had no right to a compensation 



26 Ccesar, 

at all. Political passion awoke again after tlie sleep 
of a century. The oligarchy had doubtless con- 
nived at the accumulations. The suppression of the 
small holdings favored their supremacy, and placed 
the elections more completely in their control. Their 
military successes had given them so long a tenure of 
power that they had believed it to be theirs in per- 
petuity ; and the new sedition, as they called it, 
threatened at once their privileges and their fortunes. 
The quarrel assumed the familiar form of a struggle 
between the rich and the poor, and at such times the 
mob of voters becomes less easy to corrupt. They 
go with their order, as the prospect of larger gain 
makes them indifferent to immediate bribes. It be- 
came clear that the majority of the citizens would 
support Tiberius Gracchus, but the constitutional 
forms of opposition might still be resorted to. Octa- 
vius C^cina, another of the tribunes, had himself large 
interests in the land question. He was the people's 
magistrate, one of the body appointed especially to 
defend their rights, but he went over to the Senate, 
and, using a power which undoubtedly belonged to 
him, he forbade the vote to be taken. 

Tliere was no precedent for the removal of either 
consul, prsetor, or tribune, except under circumstances 
very different from any which could as yet be said 
to have arisen. The magistrates held office for a 
year only, and the power of veto had been allowed 
them expressly to secure time for deliberation and 
to prevent passionate legislation. But Gracchus was 
young and enthusiastic. Precedent or no precedent, 
the citizens were omnipotent. He invited them to 
declare his colleague deposed. They had warmed to 
the fight and complied. A more experienced states- 



The G-raccM. 27 

man would liave kno^A^l that establisliecl constitu- 
tional bulwarks cannot be SAvept away by a momen- 
tary vote. He obtained his Agrarian law. Three 
commissioners were appointed, himself, his younger 
brother, and his father-in-law, Appius Claudius, to 
carry it into effect ; but the very names showed that 
he had alienated his few supporters in the higher 
circles, and that a single family was now contending 
^against the united wealth and distinction of Rome. 
The issue was only too certain. Popular enthusiasm 
is but a fire of straw. In a year Tiberius Gracchus 
would be out of office. Other tribunes would be 
chosen more amenable to influence, and his work 
could then be undone. He evidently knew that those 
who would succeed him could not be relied on to 
carry on his policy. He had taken one revolutionary 
step already ; he was driven on to another, and he 
offered himself illegally to the Comitia for reelection. 
It was to invite them to abolish the constitution and 
to make him virtual sovereign ; and that a young 
man of thirty should have contemplated such a posi- 
tion for himself as possible is of itself a proof of his 
unfitness for it. The election day came. The noble 
lords and gentlemen appeared in the Campus Martins 
with their retinues of armed servants and clients; 
hot-blooded aristocrats, full of disdain for dema- 
gogues, and meaning to read a lesson to sedition 
which it would not easily forget. Votes were given 
for Gracchus. Had the hustings been left to decide 
the matter, he would have been chosen ; but as it 
began to appear how the polling would go, sticks 
were used and swords ; a riot rose, the unarmed citi- 
zens were driven off, Tiberius Gracchus himself and 
three hundred of his friends were killed and their 
bodies were flnng into the Tiber. 



28 Ccesar. 

Thus the first sparks of the coming revolution were 
trampled out. But tliougli quenched and to be again 
quenched with fiercer struggles, it was to smoulder 
and smoke and burst out time after tiuie, till its 
work was done. Revolution could not restore the 
ancient character of the Roman nation, but it could 
check the progress of decay by burning away the 
more corrupted parts of it. It could destroy the 
aristocracy and the constitution which they had de- 
praved, and under other forms preserve for a few 
more centuries the Roman dominion. Scipio Afri- 
canus, when he heard in Spain of the end of his 
brother-in-law, exclaimed " May all who act as he did 
perish like him ! " There were to be victims enough 
and to spare before the bloody drama was played 
out. Quiet lasted for ten years, and then, precisely 
when he had reached his brother's age, Caius Grac- 
chus came forward to avenge him, and carry the 
movement through another stage. Young Caius had 
been left one of the commissioners of the land law ; 
and it is particularly noticeable that though the 
author of it had been killed, the law had survived 
him, being too clearly right and politic in itself to be 
openly set aside. For two years the commissioners 
had continued to work, and in that time forty thou- 
sand families were settled on various parts of the 
ager puhlicus, which the patricians had been com- 
pelled to resign. This was all which they could do. 
The displacement of one set of inhabitants and the 
introduction of another could not be accomplished 
without quarrels, complaints, and perhaps some in- 
justice. . Those who were ejected were always exas- 
perated. Those who entered on possession were not 
always satisfied. The commissioners became unpop- 



The Gracchi, 29 

alar. When the cries against tliem became loud 
enough, they were suspended, and the law was then 
quietly repealed. The Senate had regained its hold 
over the assembly, and had a further opportunity of 
showing its recovered ascendency when, two years 
after the murder of Tiberius Gracchus, one of his 
friends introduced a bill to make the tribunes legally 
recligible. Caius Gracchus actively supported the 
change, but it had no success ; and, waiting till times 
had altered, and till he had arrived himself at an age 
when he could carry weight, the young brother re- 
tired from politics, and spent the next few years with 
the army in Africa and Sardinia. He served with 
distinction ; he made a name for himself, both as a 
soldier and an administrator. Had the Senate left 
him alone, he might have been satisfied with a regu- 
lar career, and have risen by the ordinary steps to the 
consulship. But the Senate saw in him the possibil- 
ities of a second Tiberius ; the higher his reputation, 
the more formidable he became to them. They 
vexed him with petty prosecutions, charged him with 
crimes which had no existence, and at length by sus 
picion and injustice drove him into open war wit* 
them. Caius Gracchus had a broader intellect than 
his brother, and a character considerably less noble. 
The land question he perceived was but one of many 
questions. The true source of the disorders of the 
Commonwealth was the Senate itself. The adminis- 
tration of the Empire was in the hands of men to- 
tsflly unfit to be trusted with it, and there he thought 
the reform must commence. He threw himself on 
the people. He was chosen tribune in 123, ten ^^eara 
exactly after Tiberius. He had studied the disposi- 
tion of parties. He had seen his brother fall because 



80 Ccesar. 

the Equites and the senators, tlie great commoners 
and the nobles, were combined against him. He re- 
vived the Agrarian law as a matter of course, but he 
disarmed the opposition to it by throwing an apple of 
discord between the two superior orders. The high 
judicial functions in the Commonwealth had been 
hitherto a senatorial monopoly. All cases of impor- 
tance, civil or criminal, came before courts of sixty 
or seventy jurymen, who, as the law stood, must be 
necessarily senators. The privilege had been ex- 
tremely lucrative. The corruption of justice was al- 
ready notorious, though it had not yet reached the 
level of infamy which it attained in another genera- 
tion. It was no secret that in ordinary ca^uses jury- 
men had sold their verdicts ; and far short of taking 
bribes in the direct sense of the word, there were 
many ways in which they could let themselves be ap- 
proached, and their favor purchased. A monopoly 
of privileges is always invidious. A monopoly in the 
sale of justice is alike hateful to those who abhor in- 
iquity on principle and to those who would like to 
share the profits of it. But this was not the worst. 
The governors of the provinces, being chosen from 
those who had been consuls or prsetors, were necessa- 
rily members of the Senate. Peculation and extor- 
tion in these high functions were offences in theory 
of the gravest kind ; but the offender could only be 
tried before a limited number of his peers, and a gov- 
ernor who had plundered a subject state, sold justice, 
pillaged temples, and stolen all that he could luy 
hands on, was safe from punishment if he returned 
\o Rome a millionnaire and would admit others to a 
)hare in his spoils. The provincials might send dep- 
utations to complain, but these complaints came be- 



The Gracchi. 81 

fore men who had themselves governed provinces or 
else aspired to govern them. It had been proved in 
too many instances that the law which professed to 
protect them was a mere mockery. 

Caius Gracchus secured the affections of the knights 
to himself, and some slightly increased chance of an 
improvement in the provincial administration, by 
carrying a law in the assembly disabling the senators 
from sitting on juries of any kind from that day for- 
ward, and transferring the judicial functions to the 
Equites. How bitterly must such a measure have 
been resented by the Senate, which at once robbed 
them of their protective and profitable privileges, 
handed them over to be tried by their rivals for their 
pleasant irregularities, and stamped them at the same 
time with the brand of dishonest}^ ! How certainly 
must such a measure have been deserved when neither 
consul nor tribune could be found to interpose his 
vote ! Supported by the grateful knights, Caius 
Gracchus was for the moment all powerful. It was 
not enough to restore the Agrarian law. He passed 
another aimed at his brother's murderers, which was 
to bear fruit in later years, that no Roman citizen 
might be put to death by any person, however high 
in authority, without legal trial, and without appeal, 
if he chose to make it, to the sovereign people. A 
blow was thus struck against another right claimed 
by the Senate, of declaring the Republic in danger, 
and the temporary suspension of the constitution. 
These measures might be excused, and perhaps com- 
mended ; but the younger Gracchus connected his 
name with another change less commendable, which 
was destined also to survive and bear fruit. He 
brought forward and carried through, with enthusi- 



82 Ccesar. 

astic clapping of every pair of hands in Rome thai 
were hardened with labor, a proposal that there 
should be public granaries in the city, maintained 
and filled at the cost of the State, and that corn should 
be sold at a rate artificially cheap to the poor free 
citizens. Such a law was purely socialistic. The priv- 
ilege was confined to Rome, because in Rome the elec° 
tions were held, and the Roman constituency was the 
one depositary of power. The effect was to gather 
into the city a mob of needy, unemployed voters, liv- 
ing on the charity of the State, to crowd the circus 
and to clamor at the elections, available no doubt 
immediately to strengthen the hands of the popular 
tribune, but certain in the long run to sell themselves 
to those who could bid highest for their voices. Ex- 
cuses could be found, no doubt, for this miserable 
expedient, in the state of parties, in the unscrupulous 
violence of the aristocracy, in the general impoverish- 
ment of the peasantry through the land monopoly, 
and in the intrusion upon Italy of a gigantic system 
of slave labor. But none the less it was the deadliest 
blow which had yet been dealt to the constitution. 
Party government turns on the majorities at the 
polling places, and it was difficult afterwards to re- 
call a privilege which, once conceded, appeared to be 
a right. The utmost that could be ventured in later 
times with any prospect of success was to limit an 
intolerable evil ; and if one side was ever strong 
enough to make the attempt, their rivals had a bribe 
ready in their hands to buy back the popular sup- 
port. Caius Gracchus, however, had his way, and 
carried all before him. He escaped the rock on 
which his brother had been wrecked. He was elected 
tribune a second time. He might have had a third 



The Gracchi. 33 

term if he had been contented to be a mere demagogue. 
But he, too, like Tiberius, had honorable aims. The 
powers which he had played into the hands of the 
mob to obtain, he desired to use for high purposes of 
statesmanship, and his instrument broke in his hands. 
He was too wise to suppose that a Roman mob, fed 
by bounties from the treasury, could permanently 
govern the world. He had schemes for scattering 
Roman colonies, with the Roman franchise, at various 
points of the Empire. Carthage was to be one of 
them. He thought of abolishing the distinction be- 
tween Romans and Italians, and enfranchising the 
entire peninsula. These measures were good in 
themselves — essential, indeed, if the Roman con- 
quests were to form a compact and permanent do- 
minion. But the object was not attainable on the 
road on which Gracchus had entered. The vagabond 
part of the constituency was well contented with 
what it had obtained, a life in the city, supported 
at the public expense, with politics and games for 
its amusements. It had not the least inclination to 
be drafted off into settlements in Spain or Africa, 
where there would be work instead of pleasant idle- 
ness. Carthage was still a name of terror. To re- 
store Carthage was no better than treason. Still less 
had the Roman citizens an inclination to share their 
privileges with Samnites and Etruscans, and see the 
value of their votes watered down. Political storms 
are always cyclones. The gale from the east to-day 
is a gale from the west to-morrow. Who and what 
were the Gracchi then ? — the sweet voices began to 
ask — ambitious intriguers, aiming at dictatorship, 
or perhaps the crown. The aristocracy were right 
after all; a few things had gone wrong, bat these 



84 Ccesar, 

had been amended. The Scipios and Metelli had 
conquered the world : the Scipios and MetelU were 
alone fit to govern it. Thus when the election time 
came round, the party of reform was reduced to a 
minority of irreconcilable radicals, who were easily 
disposed of. Again, as ten years before, the noble 
lords armed their followers. Riots broke out and 
extended day after day. Cains Gracchus was at last 
killed, as his brother had been, and under cover of 
the disturbance three thousand of his friends were 
killed along with him. The power being again 
securely in their hands, the Senate proceeded at their 
leisure, and the surviving patriots who were in any 
way notorious or dangerous were hunted down in 
legal manner and put to death or banished. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Caius Geacchus was killed at the close of the 
year 122. The storm was over. The Senate was 
once more master of the situation, and the Optimates, 
" the best party in the State," as they were pleased 
to call themselves, smoothed their ruffled plumes and 
settled again into their places. There was no more 
talk of reform. Of the Gracchi there remained 
nothing but the forty thousand peasant proprietors 
settled on the public lands ; the Jury law, which 
could not be at once repealed for fear of the Equites ; 
the corn grants, and the mob attracted by the bounty, 
which could be managed by improved manipulation, 
and the law protecting the lives of Roman citizens, 
which survived in the statute book, although the Sen- 
ate still claimed the right to set it aside when they 
held the State to be in danger. With these excep- 
tions, the administration fell back into its old condi- 
tion. The tribunes ceased to agitate. The consul- 
ships and the prsetorships fell to the candidates whom 
the Senate supported. Whether the oligarchy had 
learnt any lessons of caution from the brief political 
earthquake which had shaken but not overthrown 
them, remained to be seen. Six years after the mur- 
der of Caius Gracchus an opportunity was afforded to 
this distinguished body of showing on a conspicuous 
scale the material of which they were now composed. 

Along the south shore of the Mediterranean, west 
of the Roman province, extended the two kingdoms 



36 Ccesar, 

of tlie Numidians and the Moors. To what race 
these people belonged is not precisely known. They 
were not Negroes. The Negro tribes have never ex- 
tended north of the Sahara. Nor were they Cartha- 
ginians, or allied to the Carthaginians. The Cartha- 
ginian colony found them in possession on its arrival. 
Sallast says that they were Persians left behind by 
Hercules after his invasion of Spain. Sallust's evi- 
dence proves no more than that their appearance was 
Asiatic, and that tradition assigned them an Asiatic 
origin. They may be called generically Arabs, who 
at a very ancient time had spread along the coast 
from Egypt to Morocco. The Numidians at this 
period were civilized according to the manners of the 
age. They had walled towns ; they had considera- 
ble wealth ; their lands were extensively watered and 
cultivated ; their great men had country houses and 
villas, the surest sign of a settled state of society. 
Among the equipments of their army they had nu- 
merous elephants (it may be presumed of the African 
breed), which they and the Carthaginians had cer- 
tainly succeeded in domesticating. Masinissa, the 
king of this people, had been the ally of Rome in the 
last Carthaginian war; he had been afterwards re- 
ceived as "a friend of the Eepublic," and was one of 
the protected sovereigns. He was succeeded by his 
son Micipsa, who in turn had two legitimate childen, 
Hiempsal and Adherbal, and an illegitimate nephew 
Jugurtha, considerably older than his own boys, a 
j^oung man of striking ialent and promise. Micipsa, 
who was advanced in years, was afraid that if he died 
this briljiant youth might be a dangerous rival to his 
sons. He therefore sent him to serve under Scipio in 
Spain, with the hope, so his friends asserted, that he 



Jugurtha, 37 

might there perhaps be killed. The Roman army 
was then engaged in the siege of Numantia. The 
camp was the lounging place of the young patricians 
who were tired of Rome, and washed for excitement. 
Discipline had fallen loose ; the officers' quarters were 
the scene of extravagance and amusement. Jugur* 
tha recommended himself on the one side to Scipio 
by activity and good service, while on the other he 
made acquaintances among the high-bred gentlemen 
in the mess-rooms. He found them in themselves 
dissolute and unscrupulous. He discovered, through 
communications, which he was able with their assist- 
ance to open with their fathers and relatives at Rome, 
that a man with money might do what he pleased. 
Micipsa's treasury was well supplied, and Jugurtha 
hinted among his comrades that, if he could be secure 
of countenance in seizing the kingdom, he would be 
in a position to show his gratitude in a substantial 
manner. Some of these conversations reached the 
ears of Scipio, who sent for Jugurtha and gave him 
a friendly warning. He dismissed him, however, 
with, honor at the end of the campaign. The young 
prince returned to Africa, loaded with distinctions, 
and the king, being now afraid to pass him over, 
named him as joint-heir with his children to a third 
part of Numidia. The Numidians perhaps objected 
to being partitioned. Micipsa died soon after. Ju- 
gurtha at once murdered Hiempsal, claimed the sov- 
ereignty, and attacked his other cousin. Adherbal, 
closely besieged in the town of Cirta, which remained 
faithful to him, appealed to Rome; but Jugurtha 
had already prepared bis ground, and knew that he 
had nothing to fear. The Senate sent out commis- 
eionerg. The commissioners received the bribes 



38 CcB%ar. 

wMch they expected. They gave Jugurtha general 
mstructions to leave his cousm in peace ; but they 
did not wait to see their orders obeyed, and went 
quietly home. The natural results immediately fol- 
lowed. Jugurtha pressed the siege more resolutely. 
The town surrendered, Adherbal was taken, and was 
put to death after being savagely tortured ; and there 
being no longer any competitor alive in whose behalf 
the Senate could be called on to interfere, he thought 
himself safe from further interference. Unfortu- 
nately in the capture of Cirta a number of Romans 
who resided there had been killed after the surren- 
der, and after a promise that their lives should be 
spared. An outcry was raised in Rome, and became 
so loud that the Senate was forced to promise inves- 
tigation ; but it went to work languidly, with reluc- 
tance so evident as to rouse suspicion. Notwithstand- 
ing the fate of the Gracchi and their friends, Mem- 
mius, a tribune, was found bold enough to tell the 
people that there were men in the Senate who had 
taken bribes. 

The Senate, conscious of its guilt, was now obliged 
to exert itself. War was declared against Jugurtha, 
and a consul was sent to Africa with an army. But 
the consul, too, had his fortune to make, and Micipsa'a 
treasures were still unexpended. The consul took 
with him a staff of young patricians, whose famihes 
might be counted on to shield him in return for a 
share of the plunder. Jugurtha was as liberal as 
avarice could desire, and peace was granted to him 
on the easy conditions of a- nominal fine, and the sur- 
render of some elephants, which the consul privately 
restored. 

Public opinion was singularly patient. The mas- 



Jugurtha. 39 

sacre six years before had killed out the liberal lead- 
ers, and there was no desire on any side as yet to re- 
new the struggle with the Senate. But it was possible 
to presume too far on popular acquiescence. Mem- 
mius came forward again, and in a passionate speech 
in the Forum exposed and denounced the r^candalous 
transaction. The political sky began tj blacken 
again. The Senate could not face another storm 
with so bad a cause, and Jugurtha was sent for to 
Rome. He came, with contemptuous confidence, 
loaded with gold. He could not corrupt Memmius, 
but he bought easily the rest of the tribunes. The 
leaders in the Curia could not quarrel with a client 
of such delightful liberality. He had an answer to 
every complaint, and a fee to silence the com plainer. 
He would have gone back in triumph, had he not 
presumed a little too far. He had another cousin 
in the city who he feared might one day give him 
trouble, so he employed one of his suite to poison 
hiiTi. The murder was accomplished successfully; 
and for this too he might no doubt have secured his 
pardon by paying for it ; but the price demanded was 
too high, and perhaps Jugurtha, vilhiin as he was, 
came at last to disdain the wretches whom he might 
consider fairly to be worse than himself. He had 
come over under a safe conduct, and he was not de- 
tained. The Senate ordered him to leave Italy ; and 
he departed with the scornful phrase on his lips 
<vhich has passed into history : '' Venal city, and 
soon to perish if only it can find a purchaser.'* ^ 
"A second army was sent across, to end the scandal. 

1 "Urbem venalem, et mature perlturam, si emptorera invenerit." 
Sallust, De Bello Jugurthino, c. 35. Livv's account of the business, iiow- 
irer, differs from Sallust's, and the expression is perhaps not authentic. 



40 CcBsar, 

This time the Senate was in earnest, but the work 
was less easy than was expected. Army manage- 
ment had fallen into disorder. In earlier times each 
Roman citizen had provided his own equipments at 
his own expense. To be a soldier was part of the 
business of his life, and military training was an es- 
sential feature of his education. The old system had 
broken down ; the peasantry, from whom the rank 
and file of the legions had been recruited, were no 
longer able to furnish their own arms. Caius Grac- 
chus had intended that arms should be furnished by 
the government, that a special department should be 
constituted to take charge of the arsenals, and to see 
to the distribution. But Gracchus was dead, and his 
project had died with him. When the legions were 
enrolled, the men were ill armed, undrilled, and un- 
provided — a mere mob, gathered hastily together 
and ignorant of the first elements of their duty. With 
the officers it was still worse. The subordinate com- 
mands fell to young patricians, darpet knights, who 
went on campaigns with their families of slaves. The 
generals, when a movement was to be made, looked 
for instruction to their staff. It sometimes happened 
that a consul waited for his election to open for the 
first time a book of military history or a Greek man- 
ual of the art of war.^ 

An army so composed and so led was not likely to 
prosper. The Numidians were not very formidable 
enemies, but after a month or two of manoeuvring, 
half the Romans were destroyed, and the remainder 
were obliged to surrender. About the same time, and 

"At ego scio, Quirites, qui, postquam consules facti sunt, acta majo- 
nim, et Gra^corum militai-ia prsecepta legere coeperint : Homines praepos^ 
teril" — Speech of Marius, Sallust, Jugurtha, 85. 



Marius. 41 

from similar causes, two Roman armies were cut to 
pieces on the Rhone. While the great men at Rome 
were building palaces, inventing new dishes, and hir- 
ing cooks at unheard-of salaries, the barbarians were 
at the gates of Italy. The passes of the Alps were 
open, and if a few tribes of Gauls had cared to pour 
through thern the Empire was at their mercy. 

Stung with these accumulating disgraces and now 
really alarmed, the Senate sent Csecilius „ ^ ,^„ 

*^ ' B. C. 109. 

Metellus, the best man that they had and 
the consul for the year following, to Africa. Metellus 
was an aristocrat, and he was advanced in years ; but 
he was a man of honor and integrity. He understood 
the danger of further failure ; and he looked about 
for the ablest soldier that he could find to go with 
him, irrespective of his political opinions. 

Caius ^ffarius was at this time forty-eight years 
old. Two thirds of his life were over, and a name 
which was to sound throughout the world and be re- 
membered through all ages, had as yet been scarcely 
heard of beyond the army and the political clubs in 
Rome. He was born at Arpinum, a Latin township, 
seventy miles from the capital, in tlie year 157. His 
father was a small farmer, and he was himself bred 
to the plough. He joined the army early, and soon 
attracted notice by his punctual discharge of his 
duties. In a time of growing looseness, Marius was 
strict himself in keeping discipline and in enforcing 
it as he rose in the service. He was in Spain when 
Jugurtha was there, and made himself especially use- 
ful to Scipio ; he forced his way steadily upwards, by 
his mere soldierlike qualities, to the rank of military 
tribune. Rome, too, had learnt to know him, for he 
was chosen tribune of the people the year after the 



42 Cmar, 

murder of Caius Gracchus. Being a self-made man, 
he belonged naturally to the popular party. While 
in office he gave offence in some way to the men in 
power, and was called before the Senate to answer 
for himself. But he had the right on his side, it is 
likely, for they found him stubborn and imperti- 
nent, and they could make nothing of their charges 
against him. He was not bidding at this time, how- 
ever, for the support of the mob. He had the integ- 
rity and sense to oppose the largesses of corn ; and he 
forfeited his popularity by trying to close the public 
granaries before the practice had passed into a system. 
He seemed as if made of a block of hard Roman oak, 
gnarled and knotted, but sound in all its fibres. His 
professional merit continued to recommend him. At 
the age of forty he became prsetor, and was sent to 
Spain, where he left a mark again by the successful 
severity by which he cleared the province of ban- 
ditti. He was a man neither given himself to talk- 
ing, nor much talked about in the world; but he was 
iought for wherever work was to be done, and he 
had made himself respected and valued in high cir- 
cles, for after his return from the Peninsula he had 
married into one of the most distinguished of the pa- 
trician families. 

The Caesars were a branch of the Gens Julia, which 
claimed descent from lulus the son of ^neas, and 
thus from the gods. Roman etymologists could arrive 
at no conclusion as to the orighi of the name. Some 
derived it from an exploit on an elephant hunt in 
Africa — Cassar meaning elephant in Moorish ; some 
to the entrance into the world of the first eminent 
Caesar by the aid of a surgeon's knife ; ^ some from 

1 "Csesus ab utero matris." 



Marius. 43 

the color of the ej^es prevailing in the family. Be 
the explanation what it might, eight generations of 
Caesars had held prominent positions in the Com- 
monwealth. They had been consuls, censors, prae- 
tors, sediles, and military tribunes, and in politics, as 
might be expected from their position, they had been 
moderate aristocrats. Like other families, they had 
been subdivided, and the links connecting them can- 
not always be traced. The pedigree of the Dictator 
goes no further than to his grandfather, Caius Julius. . 
In the middle of the second century before Christ, 
this Caius Julius, being otherwise unknown to his-'^ 
tory, married a lady named Marcia, supposed to be de- 
scended from Ancus Marcius, the fourth king of Rome. 
By her he had three children, Caius Julius, Sextas 
Julius, and a daughter named Julia. Caius Julius 
married Aurelia, perhaps a member of the consular 
family of the Cottas, and was the father of the Great 
Caesar. Julia became the wife of Caius Marius, a 
mSsaUiance, which implied the beginning of a polit- 
ical spht in the Caesar family. The elder branches, 
like the Crom wells of Hinchinbrook, remained by 
their order. The younger attached itself for good or 
ill to the party of the people. 

Marius by this marriage became a person of so- 
cial consideration. His father had been a client of 
the Metelli ; and Caecilius Metelliis, who must have 
known Marius by reputation and probably in person, 
invited him to go as second in command in the Afri- 
can campaign. He was moderately successful. Towns 
were taken ; battles were won : Metellus was incor- 
ruptible, and the Numidians sued for peace. But 
Jugurtha wanted terms, and the consul demanded un- 
tonditional surrender. Jugurtha withdrew into the 



44 Ocesar, 

desert ; the war dragged on ; and Marius, perhaps am- 
bitious, perhaps impatient at the general's want of 
vigor, began to think that he could make quicker 
work of it. The popular party were stirring again in 
Rome, the Senate having so notoriously disgraced it- 
self. There was just irritation that a petty African 
prince could defy the whole power of Rome for so 
many years ; and though a democratic consul had 
been unheard of for a century, the name of Marius 
began to be spoken of as a possible-candidate. Ma- 
rius consented to stand. The law required that he 
must be present in person at the election, and he ap- 
plied to his commander for leave of absence. Me- 
tellus laughed at his pretensions, and bade him wait 
another twenty years. Marius, however, persisted, 
and was allowed to go. The patricians strained their 
resources to defeat him, but he was chosen with en- 
thusiasm. Metellus was recalled, and the conduct of 
the Numidian war was assigned to the new hero of 
the " Populares." 

A shudder of alarm ran, no doubt, through the sen- 
ate house, when the determination of the people was 
known. A successful general could not be disposed 
of so easily as oratorical tribunes. Fortunately, Ma- 
rius was not a politician. He had no belief in de- 
mocracy. He was a soldier, and had a soldier's way 
of thinking on government and the methods of it. 
His first step was a reformation in the army. Hith- 
erto the Roman legions had been no more than the 
citizens in arms, called for the moment from their va- 
rious occupations, to return to them when the occa- 
sion for their services was past. Marius had per- 
ceived that fewer men, better trained and disciplined, 
could be made more effective and be more easily han* 



Marius. 45 

died. He had studied war as a science. He had 
perceived that the present weakness need be no more 
than an accident, and that there was a latent force in 
the Roman State which needed only organization to 
resume its ascendency. " He enlisted," it was said, 
*'the worst of the citizens," men, that is to say, who 
had no occupation, and who became soldiers by pro- 
fession ; and as persons without property could not 
have furnished themselves at their own cost, he must 
have carried out the scheme proposed by Gracchus, 
and equipped them at the expense of the State. His 
discipline was of the sternest. The experiment was 
new ; and men of rank who had a taste for war in ear- 
nest, and did not wish that the popular party should 
have the whole benefit and credit of the improve- 
ments, were willing to go with him ; among them a 
dissipated young patrician, called Lucius Sylla, whose 
name also was destined to be memorable. 

By these methods and out of these materials an 
army was formed, such as no Roman general had 
hitherto led. It performed extraordinary marches, 
carried its water supplies with it in skins, and fol- 
lowed the enemy across sandy deserts hitherto found 
impassable. In less than two years the war was 
over. The Moors, to whom Jugurtha had fled, sur- 
rendered him to Sylla ; and he was brought in chains 
to Rome, where he finished his life in a dungeon. 

So ended a curious episode in Roman history, 
where it holds a place bej^ond its intrinsic impor- 
tance, from the light which it throws on the charac- 
ter of the Senate and on the practical working of the 
institutions which the Gracchi had perished in un- 
successfully attempting to reform. 



CHAPTER V. 

The Jngurthine war ended in the year 106 B. 0. 
At tlie same Arpinum, which had produced Marina, 
another actor in the approaching drama was in tliat 
year nshered into the world, Marcus Tullius Cicero. 
The Ciceros had made their names, and perhaps their 
fortunes, by their skill in raising cicer or vetches. 
The present representative of the family was a coun- 
try gentleman in good circumstances given to liter- 
ature, residing habitually at his estate on the Liris 
and paying occasional visits to Rome. In that house- 
hold was born Rome's most eloquent master of the 
art of using words, who was to carry that art as far, 
and to do as much with it, as any man who has ever 
appeared on the world's stage. 

Rome, however, was for the present in the face of 
enemies who had to be encountered with more mate- 
rial weapons. Marius had formed an army barely in 
time to save Italy from being totally overwhelmed. 
A vast migratory wave of population had been set 
in motion behind the Rhine and the Danube. The 
German forests were uncultivated. The hunting 
and pasture grounds were too strait for the numbers 
crowded into them, and two enormous hordes were 
rolling westward and southward in search of some 
new abiding place. The Teutons came from the 
Baltic down across the Rhine into Luxemburg. The 
Cimbri crossed the Danube near its sources into 
lllyria. Both Teutons and Cimbri were Germans, 



The Cimhri and Teutons, 47 

and both were making for Gaul by different routes. 
The Celts of Gaul had had their day. In past gen- 
erations they had held the German invaders at bay, 
and had even followed them into their own territo- 
ries. But they had sj)lit among themselves. They no 
longer offered a common front to the enemy. They 
were ceasing to be able to maintain their own inde- 
pendence, and the question of the future was whether 
Gaul was to be the prey of Germany or to be a prov- 
ince of Rome. 

Events appeared already to have decided. The in- 
vasion of the Teutons and the Cimbri was like the 
pouring in of two great rivers. Each division con- 
sisted of hundreds of thousands. They travelled, 
with their wives and children, their wagons, as with 
the ancient Scythians and with the modern South 
African Dutch, being at once their conveyance ^nd 
their home. Gray-haired priestesses tramped along 
among them, barefooted, in white linen dresses, the 
knife at their girdle ; northern Iphigenias, sacrificing 
prisoners as they were taken to the gods of Valhalla. 
On they swept, eating up the country, and the peo- 
ple flying before them. In 113 B. c. the skirts of 
the Cimbri had encountered a small Roman force 
near Trieste, and destroyed it. Four years later an- 
other attempt was made to stop them, but the Ro- 
man army was beaten and its camp taken. The 
Cimbrian host did not, however, turn at that time 
upon Italy. Their aim was the south of France. 
They made their way through the Alps into Switzer- 
land, where the Helvetii joined them, and the united 
mass rolled over the Jura and down the bank of the 
Rhone. Roused at last into the exertion, the Senate 
sent into Gaul the largest force which the Romans 



48 Ocesar. 

had ever brought into the field. They met the Cim- 
bri at Orange, and were simply annihilated. Eiglity 
thousand Romans and forty thousand camp follow- 
ers were said to have fallen. The numbers in such 
cases are generally exaggerated, but the extrava- 
gance of the report is a witness to the greatness of 
the overthrow. The Romans had received a worse 
blow than at Cannae. They were brave enough, but 
they were commanded by persons whose recommen- 
dations for command were birth or fortune ; " pre- 
posterous men," as Marius termed them, who had 
waited for their appointment to open the military 
manuals. 

Had the Cimbri chosen at this moment to recross 
the Alps into Italy, they had only to go and take 
possession, and Alaric would have been antedated by 
five centuries. In great danger it was the Senate's 
business to suspend the constitution. The constitu- 
tion was set aside now, but it was set aside by the 
people themselves, not by the Senate. One man only 
could save the country, and that man was Marius. 
His consulship was over, and custom forbade his re- 
election. The Senate might have appointed him 
Dictator, but would not. The people, custom or no 
custom, chose him consul a second time — a significant 
acknowledgment that the Empire, which had been 
won by the sword, must be held by the sword, and 
that the sword itself must be held by the hand that 
was best fitted to use it. Marius first triumphed 
for his African victory, and, as an intimation to the 
Senate that the power for the moment was his and 
n9t theirs, he entered the Curia in his triumphal 
dress. He then prepared for the barbarians who,- to 
the alarmed imagination of the city, were already 



Change in the Position of the Army, 49 

knocking at its gates. Time was the important el- 
ement in the matter. Had the Cimbri come at once 
after their victory at Orange, Italy had been theirs. 
But they did not come. With the unguided move- 
ments of some wild force of nature they swerved away 
through Aquitaine to the Pyrenees. They swept 
across the mountains into Spain. Thence, turning 
north, they passed up the Atlantic coast and round 
to the Seine, the Gauls flying before them ; thence 
on to the Rhine, where the vast body of the Teu- 
tons joined them and fresh detachments of the Hel- 
ve tii. It was as if some vast tide wave had surged 
over the country and rolled through it, searching out 
the easiest passages. At length, in two divisions, 
the invaders moved definitely towards Italy, the Cim- 
bri following their old tracks by the Eastern Alps to- 
wards Aquileia and the Adriatic, the Teutons pass- 
ing down through Provence, and making for the 
road along the Mediterranean. Two years had been 
consumed in these wanderings, and Marius was by 
this time ready for them. The Senate had dropped 
the reins, and no longer governed or misgoverned; 
the popular party, represented by the army, was su- 
preme. Marius was continued in office, and was a 
fourth time consul. He had completed his military 
reforms, and the army was now a professional serv- 
ice, with regular pay. Trained corps of engineers 
were attached to each legion. The campaigns of the 
Romans were thenceforward to be conducted with 
spade and pickaxe as much as with sword and jave- 
lin, and the soldiers learnt the use of tools as well 
as arms. Moral discipline was not forgotten. The 
foulest of human vices was growing fashionable in 
high society in the capital. It was not allowed to 



50 CcBsar, 

make its way into the army. An officer in one of 
the legions, a near relative of Marius, made filthy 
overtures to one of his men. The man replied with 
a thi-nst of his sword, and Marius publicly thanked 
and decorated him. 

The effect of the change was like enchantment. 
The delay of the Germans made it unnecessary to 
wait for them in Italy. Leaving Catulus, his col- 
league in the consulship, to check the Cimbri in 
Venetia, Marius went himself, taking Sylla with him, 
into the south of France. As the barbarian host 
came on, he occupied a fortified camp near Aix. He 
allowed the enormous procession to roll past him in 
their wagons towards the Alps. Then, following cau- 
tiously, he watched his opportunity to fall on them. 
The Teutons were brave, but they had no longer 
mere legionaries to fight with, but a powerful ma- 
chine, and the entire mass of them, men, women, and 
children, in numbers which, however uncertain, were 
rather those of a nation than an army, were swept 
out of existence. 

The Teutons were destroyed on the 20th of July, 
102. In the year following the same fate overtook 
their comrades. The Cimbri had forced the passes 
through the mountains. They had beaten the un- 
scientific patrician Catulus, and had driven him back 
on the Po. But Marius 43am e to his rescue. The 
Cimbri were cut to pieces near Mantua, in the sum- 
mer of 101, and Italy was saved. 

The victories of Marius mark a new epoch in Ro- 
man history. The legions were no longer the levy of 
the citizens in arms, who were themselves the State 
for which they fought. The legionaries were citizens 
Btill. They had votes, and they used them ; but they 



Change in the Position of the Army. 51 

were professional soldiers with the modes of thought 
which belong to soldiers ; and beside, the power of the 
hustings was now the power of the sword. The con- 
stitution remained to appearance intact, and means 
were devised sufficient to encounter, it might be sup- 
posed, the new danger. Standing armies were pro- 
hibited in Italy. Victorious generals returning from 
campaigns abroad were required to disband their le- 
gions on entering the sacred soil. But the materials 
of these legions remained a distinct order from the 
rest of the population, capable of instant combina- 
tion, and in combination irresistible, save by opposing 
combinations of the same kind. The Senate might 
continue to debate, the Comitia might elect the an- 
nual magistrates. The established institutions pre- 
served the form and something of the reality of power 
in a people governed so mach by habit as the Ro- 
mans. There is a long twilight between the time 
when a god is first suspected to be an idol and his 
final overthrow. But the aristocracy had made the 
first inroad on the constitution by interfering at the 
elections with their armed followers and kilhng their 
antagonists. The example once set could not fail to 
be repeated, and the rule of an organized force was 
becoming the only possible protection against the 
rule of mobs, patrician or plebeian. 

The danger from the Germans was no sooner gone 
than political anarchy broke loose again. Marius, the 
man of the people, was the saviour of his country. 
He was made consul a fifth time, and a sixth. The 
party which had given him his command shared, of 
course, in his preeminence. The elections could be 
no longer interfered with or the voters intimidated. 
The public offices were filled with the most violent 



62 OcBsar. 

agitators, who believed tliat the time had come to 
revenge the Gracchi, and carry out the democratic 
revolution, to establish the ideal Republic, and the 
direct rule of the citizen assembly. This, too, was 
a chimera. If the Roman Senate could not govern, 
far less could the Roman mob govern. Marius stood 
aside, and let the voices rage. He could not be ex- 
pected to support a system which had brought the 
country so near to ruin. He had no belief in the 
visions of the demagogues, but the time was not ripe 
to make an end of it all. Plad he tried, the army 
would not have gone with him, so he sat still till fac- 
tion had done its work. The popular heroes of the 
hour were the tribune Saturninus and the pr^tor 
Glaucia. They carried corn laws and land laws — 
whatever laws they pleased to propose. The admin- 
istration remaining with the Senate, they carried a 
vote that every senator should take an oath to exe- 
cute their laws under penalty of fine and expulsion. 
Marius did not like it, and even opposed it, but let 
it pass at last. The senators, cowed and humiliated, 
consented to take the oath, all but one, Marius's old 
friend and commander in Africa, Gsecilius Metellus. 
No stain had ever rested on the name of Metellus. 
He had accepted no bribes. He had half beaten Ju- 
gurtha, for Marius to finish; and Marius himself stood 
in a semi-feudal relation to him. It was unlucky for 
the democrats that they had found so honorable' an 
opponent. Metellus persisted in refusal. Saturninus 
sent a guard to the senate house, dragged him out, 
and expelled him from the city. Aristocrats and their 
partisans were hustled and killed in the street. The 
patricians had spilt the first blood in the massacre in 
121 : now it was the turn of the mob. 



Murder of Memmius. 6S 

Marius was an indifferent politician. He perceived 
as well as any one tliat violence must not go on, but 
he hesitated to put it down. He knew that the aris- 
tocracy feared and hated him. Between them and 
the people's consul no alliance was possible. He did 
not care to alienate his friends, and there may have 
been other difficulties which we do not know in his 
way. The army itself was perhaps divided. On the 
popular side there were two parties : a moderate cne, 
represented by Memmius, who, as tribune, had im- 
peached the senators for the Jugurthine infamies; 
the other, the advanced radicals, led by Glaucia and 
Saturninus. Memmius and Glaucia were both can- 
didates for the consulship ; and as Memmius was 
likely to succeed, he was murdered. 

Revolutions proceed like the acts of a drama, and 
each act is divided into scenes which follow one an- 
other with singular uniformity. Ruling powers make 
themselves hated by tyranny and incapacity. An 
opposition is formed against them, composed of all 
sorts, lovers of order and lovers of disorder, reason- 
able men and fanatics, business-like men and men 
of theory. The opposition succeeds ; the Govern- 
ment is overthrown ; the victors divide into a moder- 
erate party and an advanced party. The advanced 
party go to the front, till they discredit themselves 
with crime or folly. The wheel has then gone round, 
and the reaction sets in. The murder of Memmius 
alienated fatally the respectable citizens. Saturninus 
and Glaucia were declared public enemies. They 
seized the Capitol, and blockaded it. Patrician 
Rome turned out and besieged them, and Marius had 
to interfere. The demagogues and their friends sur- 
rendered, and were confined in the Curia Hostilia till 



54 CoBsar. 

they could be tried. The noble lords could not allow 
such detested enemies the chance of an acquittal. 
To them a radical was a foe of mankind, to be 
hunted down like a wolf, when a chance was offered 
to destroy him. By the law of Caius Gracchus no 
citizen could be put to death without a trial. The 
persons of Saturninus and Glaucia were doubly sa- 
cred, for one was tribune and the other prsetor. But 
the patricians were satisfied that they deserved to be 
executed, and in such a frame of mind it seemed but 
virtue to execute them. They tore off the roof of 
the senate house, and pelted the miserable wretches 
to death with stones and tiles. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Not far from the scene of the murder of Glaucia 
and Saturninus there was lying at this time in his 
cradle, or carried about in his nurse's arras, a child 
who, in his manhood, was to hold an inquiry into this 
business, and to bring one of the perpetrators to an- 
swer for himself. On the 12th of the preceding 
July, B. c. 100,^ was born into the world Caius Ju- 
lius Caesar, the only son of Caius Julius and Aurelia, 
and nephew of the then Consul Marius. His father 
had been praetor, but had held no higher ofHce. Au- 
relia was a strict stately lady of the old school, unin- 
fected by the lately imported fashions. She, or her 
husband, or both of them, were rich; but the habits 
of the household were simple and severe, and the 
connection with Marius indicates the political opin- 
ions which prevailed in the family. 

No anecdotes are preserved of Caesar's childhood. 
He was taught Greek by Antonius Gnipho, an edu- 
cated Gaul from the north of Italy. He wrote a 
poem when a boy in honor of Hercules. He ..com- 
posed a tragedy on the story of CEdipus. His : pas- 
sionate attachment to Aurelia in after years sliows 
that between mother and child the relations had been 
affectionate and happy. But there is notliing to in- 

1 I follow the ordinary date, which has been fixed by the positive 
Btatemont that Caesar was fifty-six wlicn he was killed, the date of his 
death beinj^ March b. c. 44. Mommsen, however, argues plausibly for 
adding? another two years to the beginning of Ciesar's life, and brings him 
into the world at the time of the battle at Aix. 



56 CcBsar. 

dicate that there was any early precocity of talent 
and leaving Csesar to his grammar and his exercises, 
we will proceed with the occurrences which he must 
have heard talked of in his father's house, or seen with 
his eyes when he began to open them. The society 
there was probably composed of his uncle's friends ; 
soldiers and statesmen who had no sympathy with 
mobs, but detested the selfish and dangerous system 
on which the Senate had carried on the government, 
and dreaded its consequences. Above the tumults of 
the factions in the Capitol a cry rising into shrillness 
began to be heard from Italy. Caius Gracchus had 
wished to extend the Roman franchise to the Italian 
States, and the suggestion had cost him his popular- 
ity and his life. The Italian provinces had furnished 
their share of the armies which had beaten Jugurtha, 
and had destroyed the German invaders. They now 
demanded that they should have the position which 
Gracchus designed for them : that they should be 
allowed to legislate for themselves, and no longer lie 
at the mercy of others, who neither understood their 
necessities nor cared for their interests. They had 
no friends in the city, save a few far-sighted states- 
men. Senate and mob had at least one point of 
agreement, that the spoils of the Empire should be 
fought for among themselves ; and at tlie first men- 
tion of the invasion of their monopoly a law was 
passed making the very agitation of the subject pun- 
ishable by death. 

Political convulsions work in a groove, the direc- 
tion of which varies little in any age or country* 
Institutions once sufficient and salutary become un- 
adapted to a change of circumstances. The tradi^ 
tionary holders of power see their interests threat* 



The Italian Franchise. 67 

ened. They are_ -jealous of innovations. They look 

on agitators for reform as felonious persons desiring 
to appropriate what does not belong to them. The 
complaining parties are conscious of suffering, and 
rush blindly on the superficial causes of their immedi- 
ate distress. The existing authority is their enemy ; 
and their one remedy is a change in the system of 
government. They imagine that they see what the 
change should be, that they comprehend what they 
are doing, and know where they intend to arrive. 
They do not perceive that the visible disorders are no 
more than symptoms which no measures, repressive 
or revolutionary, ~can do more than palliate. The 
wave advances and the wave recedes. Neither party 
in the struggle can lift itself far enough above the 
passions of the moment to study the drift of the gen- 
eral current. Each is violent, each is one-sided, and 
each makes the most and the worst of the sins of its 
opponents. The one idea of the aggressors is to 
grasp all that they can reach. The one idea of the 
conservatives is to part with nothing, pretending that 
the stability of the State depends on adherence to 
the principles which have placed them in the position 
which they hold ; and as various interests are threat- 
ened, and as various necessities arise, those who are 
one day enemies are frightened the next into unnatu- 
ral coalitions, and the next after into more embittered 
dissensions. 

To an indifferent spectator, armed especially with 
the political experiences of twenty additional centu- 
ries, it seems difficult to understand how Italy could 
govern the world. That the world and Italy besides 
•should continue subject to the population of a single 
city, of its limited Latin environs, and of a handful 



58 Ccesar. 

of townships exceptionpJly favored, miglit even then 
be seen to be plainly impossible. The Italians were 
Romans in every point, except in the possession of the 
franchise. They spoke the same language ; they were 
subjects of the same dominion. They were as well 
educated, they were as wealthy, they were as capable, 
as the inhabitants of the dominant State. They paid 
taxes, they fought in the armies ; they were strong ; 
they were less corrupt, politically and morally, as 
having fewer temptations and fewer opportunities of 
evil ; and irj.. their simple country life they approached 
incomparably nearer to the old Roman type than the 
patrician fops in the circus or the Forum, or the city 
mob which was fed in idleness on free grants of corn. 
When Samniumand Tuscany were conquered, a third 
of the lands had been confiscated to the Roman State, 
under the name of Ager Publicus. Samnite and 
Etruscan gentlemen had recovered part of it under 
lease, much as the descendants of the Irish chiefs held 
their ancestral domains as tenants of the Cromwellians. 
The land law of the Gracchi was well intended, but it 
bore hard on many of tlie leading provincials, who 
had seen their estates parcelled out, and their own 
property, as they deemed it, taken from them under 
the land commission. If they were to be governed 
.by Roman laws, they naturally demanded to be con- 
sulted when the laws were made. They might have 
been content under a despotism, to which Roman and 
Italian were subject alike. To be governed under the 
forms of a free constitution by men no better than 
themselves was naturally intolerable. 

The movement from without united the Romans 
for the instant in defence of their privileges. The 
aristocracy resisted change from instinct ; the mob, 



^-^ 



The Italian War. 59 

loudly as they clanaoved for their own rights, cared 
nothing for the rights of others, and the answer to the 
petition of the Itahans, five years after the 
defeat of the Cimbri, was a fierce refusal to * " ' 
permit the discussion of it. Livius Drusus, one of 
those unfortunately gifted men who can see that in 
a quarrel there is sometimes justice on both sides, 
made a vain attempt to secure the provincials a hear- 
ing, but he was murdered in his own house. 

B. C. 91. 

To be murdered was the usual end of ex- 
ceptionally distinguished Romans, in a State where 
the lives of citizens were theoretically sacred. His 
death was the signal for an insurrection, which began 
in the mountains of the Abruzzi and spread over the 
whole peninsula. 

The contrast of character between the two classes 
of population became at once uncomfortably evident. 
The provincials had been the right arm of the Em- 
pire. Rome, a city of rich men with families of 
slaves, and of a crowd of impoverished freemen with- 
out employment to keep them in health and strength, 
could no longer bring into the field a force which 
could hold its ground against the gentry and peasants 
of Samnium. The Senate enlisted Greeks, Numid- 
ians, any one whose services they could purchase. 
They had to encounter soldiers who had been trained 
and disciplined by Marius, and they were taught, by 
defeat upon defeat, that they had a worse enemy be- n[/1> 

'ore them than the Germans. Marius himself had - 

most withdrawn from public life. He had no heart 
for the quarrel, and did not care greatly to exert 
himself. At the bottom, perhaps, he thought that 
the Italians were in the right. The Senate discovered 
chat they were helpless, and must come to terms if 



60 Ccesar. 

tiiey would escape destruction. They abandoned the 
original point of difference, and tliey offered to open 
tlie franchise to every Italian state south of the Po, 
which had not taken arms, or which returned im- 
mediately to its allegiance. The war had broken 
out for a definite cause. When the cause was re- 
moved no reason remained for its continuance. The 
Italians were closely connected with Rome. Italians 
were spread over the Roman world in active business. 
They had no wish to overthrow the Empire if they 
were allowed a share in its management. The 
greater part of them accepted the Senate's terms ; 
and only those remained in the field who had gone to 
war in the hope of recovering the lost independence 
which their ancestors had so long heroically defended. 

The panting Senate was thus able to breathe again. 
The war continued, but under better auspices. Sound 
material could now be collected again for the army. 
Marius being in the background, the chosen knight 
of the aristocracy, Lucius Sylla, whose fame in the 
Cimbrian war had been only second to that of his 
commander's, came at once to the front. 

Sylla, or Sulla, as we are now taught to call him, 
was born in the year 138 B. C. He was a patrician 
of the purest blood, had inherited a moderate fort- 
une, and had spent it like other young men of rank, 
lounging in theatres, and amusing himself with din- 
ner-parties. He was a poet, an artist, and a wit, but 
each and everything with the languor of an amateur. 
His favorite associates were actresses, and he had 
neither obtained nor aspired to any higher reputation 
khan that of a cultivated man of fashion.^ His dis- 
tinguished birth was not apparent in his person. He 
Uad red hair, hard blue eyes, and a complexion white 



Sylla. 61 

and purple, with the colors so ill-mixed that his face 
was compared to a mulberry sprinkled with flour. 
Ambition he appeared to have none ; and when ho 
exerted himself to be appointed QusBstor to Marius 
on the African expedition, Marius was disinclined to 
take him as having no recommendation beyond qual- 
ifications which the consul of the plebeians disdained 
and disliked. 

Marius, however, soon discovered his mistake. Be- 
neath his constitutional indolence, Sylla was by nature 
a soldier, a statesman, a diplomatist. He had been 
too contemptuous of the common objects of politicians 
to concern himself with the intrigues of the Forum, 
but he had only to exert himself to rise with easy 
ascendency to the command of every situation in 
which he might be placed. He had entered with 
military instinct into Marius's reform of the army, 
and became the most active and useful of his officers. 
He endeared himself to the legionaries by a tolerance 
of vices which did not interfere with discipline ; and 
to Sylla's combined adroitness and courage Marius 
owed the final capture of Jugurtha. 

Whether Marius became jealous of Sylla on this 
occasion must be decided by those who, while they 
have no better information than others as to the ac- 
tions of men, possess, or claim to possess, the most in- 
timate acquaintance with their motives. They again 
served together, however, against the Northern in- 
vaders, and Sylla a second time lent efficient help to 
give Marius victory. Like Marius, he had no turn 
for platform orator}^, and little interest in election 
contests and intrigues. For eight years he kept 
aloof from politics, and his name and that of his rival 
were alike for all that time almost unheard of. He 



62 Ccesar. 

emerged into special notice only when he was pr^tor 
in the year 93 B. C, and when he characteristically 
distinguished his terra of office by exhibiting a hun- 
dred lions in the arena matched against Numidian 
archers. There was no such road to popiilarity with 
the Roman multitude. It is possible that the little 
Caesar, then a child of seven, may have been among 
the spectators, making his small reflections on it all. 

In 92 Sylla went as pro-pr^etor to Asia, where the 
incapacity of the Senate's administration was creating 
another enemy likely to be troublesome. Mithridates, 
" child of the sun," pretending to a descent from Da- 
rius Hystaspes, was king of Pontus, one of the semi- 
independent monarchies which had been allowed to 
stand in Asia Minor. The coast line of Pontus ex- 
tended from Sinope to Trebizond, and reached in- 
land to the line of mountains where the rivers divide 
which flow into the Black Sea and the -Mediterra- 
nean. The father of Mithridates was murdered when 

he was a child, and for some years he led a 
B.C. 120. _ . -./ . ^ -^ , . . 

wandering lite, meeting adventures wnich 

were as wild and perhaps as imaginary as those of 
Ulysses. In later life he became the idol of East- 
ern imagination, and legend made free with his his- 
tory but he was certainly an extraordinary man. He 
spoke the unnumbered dialects of the Asiatic tribes 
among whom he had travelled. He spoke Greek with 
ea.se and freedom. Placed, as he was, on the mar- 
gin wh.ere the civilizations of the East and the West 
were brought in contact, he was at once a barbarian 
potentate and an ambitious European politician. He 
was well informed of the state of Rome, and saw rea- 
son, perhaps, as well he might, to doubt the durabil- 
\\j of its power. At any rate, he was no sooner fixed 



Mithridates, 63 

on his own throne than he began to annex the terri- 
tories of the adjoining princes. He advanced his sea 
frontier through Armenia to Batouni, and thence 
along the coast of Circassia. He occupied the Greek 
settlements on the Sea of Azof. He took Kertch and 
the Crimea, and with the help of pirates from the 
Mediterranean he formed a fleet which gave him 
complete command of the Black Sea. In Asia Minor 
no power but the Roman could venture to quarrel 
with him. The Romans ought in prudence to have 
interfered before Mithridates had grown to so large a 
bulk, but money judiciously distributed among the 
leading politicians had secured the Senate's conniv- 
ance ; and they opened their eyes at last only when 
Mithridates thought it unnecessary to subsidize them 
further, and directed his proceedings against Cappa- 
docia, which was immediately under Roman protec- 
tion. He invaded the country, killed the prince whom 
Rome had recognized, and placed on the throne a child 
of his own, with the evident intention of taking Cap- 
pad ocia for himself. 

This was to go too far. Like Jugurtha, he had 
purchased many friends in the Senate, who, grateful 
for past favors and hoping for more, prevented the 
adoption of violent measures against him ; but they 
Bent a message to him that he must not have Cappa- 
docia, and Mithridates, waiting for a better opportu- 
nity, thought proper to comply. Of this message the 
bearer was Lucius Sylla. He had time to study on 
the spot the problem of how to deal with Asia Minor. 
He accomplished his mission with his usual adroit- 
ness and apparent success, and he returned to Rome 
with new honors to finish the Social war. 

It was no easy work. The Samnites were tough 



64 Cceuir. 

and determined. For two years they continued to 
struggle, and the contest was not yet over when news 
came from the East appalling as the threatened Cim- 
brian invasion, which brought both parties to consent 
to suspend their differences by mutual concessions. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Barbabian kings, who found Roman senators 
ready to take bribes from them, believed not unnat- 
urally that the days of Roman dominion were num- 
bered. When the news of the Social war reached 
Mithridates, he thought it needless to temporize 
longer, and he stretched out his hand to seize the 
prize of the dominion of the East. The Armenians, 
who were at his disposition, broke into Cappadocia 
and again overthrew the government, which was in 
dependence upon Rome. Mithridates himself invaded 
Bithynia, and replied to the remonstrances of the 
Roman authorities by a declaration of open war. 
He called under arms the whole force of which he 
could dispose; frightened rumor spoke of it as 
amounting to three hundred thousand men. His 
corsair fleets poured down through the Dardanelles 
into the Archipelago ; and so detested had the Ro- 
man governors made themselves by their extortion 
and injustice, that not only all the islands, but the 
provinces on the continent, Ionia, Lydia, and Caria, 
rose in revolt. The rebellion was preconcerted and 
simultaneous. The Roman residents, merchants, 
bankers, farmers of the taxes, they and all their fam- 
ilies, were set upon and murdered; a hundred and 
fifty thousand men, women, and children were said 
to have been destroyed in a single day If we divide 
by ten, as it is generally safe to do with historical 
round numbers, still beyond doubt the signal had 



66 Ccesar. 

been given in an appalling massacre to abolish out of 
Asia the Roman name and power. Swift as a thun- 
derbolt, Mithridates himself crossed the Bosphorus, 
and the next news that reached Rome was that 
northern Greece had risen also, and was throwing 
itself into the arms of its deliyerers. 

The defeat at Cannse had been received with digni- 
fied calm. Patricians and plebeians forgot their quar- 
rels, and thought only how to meet their common foe. 
The massacre in Asia and the invasion of Mithridates 
let loose a tempest of political frenzy. Never was 
indignation more deserved. The Senate had made 
no preparation. Such resources as they could com- 
mand had been wasted in the wars with the Italians. 
They had no fleet, they had no armies available ; 
nor, while the civil war was raging, could they raise 
an army. The garrisons in Greece were scattered or 
shut in within their lines and unable to move. The 
treasury was empty. Indiyiduals were enormously 
rich, and the State was bankrupt. Thousands of 
families had lost brothers, cousins, or friends in the 
massacre, and the manifest cause of the disaster was 
the inefficiency and worthlessness of the ruling classes. 
In Africa, in Gaul, in Italy, and now in Asia, it had 
been the same story. The interests of the Common- 
wealth had been sacrificed to fill the purses of the few 
Dominion, wealth, honors, all that had been won by 
the hardy virtues of earlier generations, seemed about 
to be engulfed forever. 

In their panic the Senate turned to Sylla, whom 
they had made consul. An imperfect peace was 
patched up with the Italians. Sylla was bidden to 
save the Republic, and to prepare in haste for Greece. 
But Sylla was a bitter aristocrat, the very incarna- 



Marius and Sylla. 67 

tion of the oligarchy, who were responsible for every 
disaster which had happened. Tiie Senate had taken 
bribes from Jugurtlia. The Senate had chosen the 
commanders whose blunders had thrown open the 
Alps to the Germans ; and it was only because the 
people had snatched the power out of their hands and 
had trusted it to one of themselves that Italy had not 
been in flames. Again the oligarchy had recovered 
the administration, and again by following the old 
courses they had brought on this new catastrophe. 
They might have checked Mithridates while there 
was time. They had preferred to accept his money 
and look on. The people naturally thought that no 
successes could be looked for under such guidance; 
and that, even were Sylla to be victorious, nothing 
was to be expected but the continuance of the same 
accursed system. Marius was the man. Marius, after 
his sixth consulship, had travelled in the East, and 
understood it as well as Sylla. Not Sylla, but Marius 
must now go against Mithridates. Too late the dem- 
ocratic leaders repented of tlieir folly in encourag- 
ing the Senate to refuse the franchise to the Italians. 
The Italians, they began to perceive, would be their 
surest political allies. Caius Gracchus had been right 
after all. The Roman democracy must make haste 
to offer the Italians more than all which the Senate 
was ready to concede to them. Together they could 
make an end of misrule, and place Marius onceniiore 
at their head. 

Much of this was perhaps the scheming passion of 
revolution ; much of it was legitimate indignation, 
penitent for its errors, and anxious to atone for them. 
Marius had his personal grievances. The aristocrats 
were stealing from him even his military reputation, 



68 Ccesar. 

and claiming for Sylla the capture of Jugurtlia. He 
was willing, perhaps anxious, to take the Eastern 
command. Sulpicius Rufus, once a champion of the 
Senate and the most brilliant orator in Rome, went 
over to the people in the excitement. Rufus was 
chosen tribune, and at once proposed to enfranchise 
the remainder of Italy. He denounced the oligarchy. 
He insisted that the Senate must be purged of its 
corrupt members and better men be introduced, that 
the people must depose Sylla, and that Marius must 
take his place. The Empire was tottering, and the 
mob and its leaders were choosing an ill moment for 
a rcYolution. The tribune carried the assembly along 
with him. There were fights again in the Forum 
the young nobles with their gangs once more break- 
ing up the Comitia and driving the people fj-om the 
voting places. The voting, notwithstanding, was got 
through as Sulpicius Rufus recommended, and Sylla, 
so far as the assembly could do it, was superseded. 
But Sylla was not so easily got rid of. It was no time 
for nice considerations. He had formed an army in 
Campania out of the legions which had served against 
the Italians. He had made his soldiers devoted to 
him. They were ready to go anywhere and do any- 
thing which Sylla bade them. After so many mur- 
ders and so many commotions, the constitution had 
lost its sacred character ; a popular assembly was, of 
all conceivable bodies, the least fit to govern an Em- 
pire ; and in Sylla's eyes the Senate, whatever its 
deficiencies, was the only possible sovereign of Rome. 
The people were a rabble, and their voices the clamor 
of fools, who must be taught to know their masters. 
His reply to Sulpicius and to the vote for his recall 
was to march on the city. He led his troops within 



Sylla. 69 

the circle which no legionary in arms was allowed to 
enter, and he lighted his watchfires in the Forum 
itself. The people resisted ; Sulpicius was killed ; 
Marius, the saviour of his country, had to fly for his 
life, pursued by assassins, with a price set upon his 
liead. Twelve of the prominent popular leaders 
were immediately executed without trial ; and in 
hot haste, swift decisive measures were taken, which 
permanently, as Sylla hoped, or if not permanently 
at least for the moment, would lame the limbs of the 
democracy. The Senate, being below its numbers, 
was hastily filled up from the patrician families. The 
arrangements of the Comitia were readjusted, to re- 
store to wealth a decisive preponderance in the elec- 
tion of the magistrates. The tribunes of the people 
were stripped of half their power. Their vote was vC v ^ 
left to them, but the right of initiation was taken 
away ; and no law or measure of any kind was thence- 
forth to be submitted to the popular assembly till it 
had been considered in the Curia, and had received 
the Senate's sanction. 

Thus the snake was scotched, and it might be 
hoped would die of its wounds. Sulpicius and his 
brother demagogues were dead. Marius was exiled. 
Time pressed, and Sylla could not wait to see his 
reforms in operation. Signs became visible before 
he went that the crisis would not pass off so easily. 
Fresh consuls had to be elected. The changes in the 
method of voting were intended to secure the return 
of the Senate's candidates, and one of the consuls 
chosen, Cnaeus Octavius, was a man on whom Sylla 
could rely. His colleague, Lucius Cinna, though 
elected under the pressure of the legions, was of more 
doubtful temper. But Cinna was a patrician, though 



70 Cmar. 

given to popular sentiments. Sylla was impatient 
to be gone ; more important work was waiting for 
him than composing factions in Rome. He contented 
himself with obliging the new consuls to take an oath 
to maintain the constitution in the shape in which 
he left it, and he sailed fi-om Brindisi in the winter 

*ofB. c. 88. 

The campaign of Sylla in the East does not fall to 
be described in this place. He was a second Corio- 
lanus, a proud, imperious aristocrat, contemptuous, 
above all men living, of popular rights ; but he was 
the first soldier of his age; he was himself, though 

*^e did not know it, an impersonation of the change 
which was passing over the Roman character. He 
took with him at most 30,000 men. He had no fleet. 
Had the corsair squadrons of Mithridates been on 
the alert, they might have destroyed him on his pas- 
sage. Events at Rome left him almost immediately 
without support from Italy. He was impeached, he 
was summoned back. His troops were forbidden to 
obey him, and a democratic commander was sent out 
to supersede him. The army stood by their favor- 
ite commander. Sylla disregarded his orders from 
home. He found men and money as he could.^ He 
supported himself out of the countries which he oc- 
cupied, without resources save in his own skill and 
in the fidelity and excellence of his legions. He de- 
feated Mithridates, he drove him back out of Greece 
and pursued him into Asia. The interests of his party 
demanded his presence at Rome; the interests of the 
State required that he should not leave his work in 
the East unfinished ; and he stood to it through four 
hard years till he brought Mithridates to sue for 
peace upon his knees. He had not the means to com- 



Sylla, 71 

plete the conquest or completely to avenge the massa- 
cre, with which the Prince of Pontus had commenced 
the war. He left Mithridates still in possession of 
his hereditary kingdom ; but he left him bound, so 
far as treaties could bind so ambitious a spirit, to re- 
main thenceforward within his own frontiers. Ho 
3-ecovered Greece and the Islands, and the Roman 
provinces in Asia Minor. He extorted an indemnity 
of five millions, and executed man}^ of the wretches 
who had been active in the murders. He raised a 
fleet in Egypt, with which he drove the pirates out 
of the Archipelago back into their OAvn waters. He 
restored the shattered prestige of Roman authority, 
and he won for himself a reputation which his later 
cruelties might stain, but could not efface. 

The merit of Sylla shows in more striking colors 
when w^e look to what was passing, during these four 
years of his absence, in the heart of the Empire. He 
was no sooner out of Italy than the democratic party 
rose, with Cinna at their head, to demand the resto- 
ration of the old constitution. Cinna had been sworn 
to maintain Sylla's reforms, but no oath could be 
held binding which was extorted at the sword's poir.t. 
A fresh Sulpicius was found in Carbo, a popular trib- 
une. A more valuable supporter was found in Quin- 
tus Sertorius, a soldier of fortune, but a man of real 
gifts, and even of genius. Disregarding the new ob- 
ligation to obtain the previous consent of the Senate, 
Cinna called the assembly together to repeal the acts 
which Sylla had forced on them. Sylla, it is to be 
remembered, had as yet won no victories, nor was 
expected to win victories. He was the favorite of 
the Senate, and the Senate had become a byword for^ 
incapacity andrfarTure. Again, as so many times be- 



72 Ccesar. 

fore, the supremacy of the aristocrats had been ac- 
companied with dishonor abroad, and the lawless 
murder of political adversaries at home. No true 
lover of his country could be expected, in Cinna's 
opinion, to sit quiet under a tyranny which had 
robbed the people of their hereditary liberties. 

The patricians took up the challenge. Octavius, 
the other consul, came with an armed force into the 
Forum, and ordered the assembly to disperse. The 
crowd was unusually great. The country voters had 
come in large numbers to stand up for their rights. 
They did not obey. They were not called on to 
obey. But because they refused to disperse they 
were set upon with deliberate fury, and were hewn 
down in heaps where they stood. No accurate reg- 
ister was of course taken of the numbers killed ; but 
the intention of the patricians was to make a bloody 
"example, and such a scene of slaughter had never 
been witnessed in Rome since the first stone of the 
city was laid. It was an act of savage, ruthless feroc- 
ity, certain to be followed with a retribution as sharp 
and as indiscriminating. Men are not permitted to 
deal with their fellow creatures in these methods. 
Cinna and the tribunes fled, but fled only to be re- 
ceived with open arms by the Italians. The wounds 
of the Social war were scarcely cicatrized, and the 
peace had left the allies imperfectly satisfied. Their 
dispersed armies gathered again about Cinna and 
Sertorius. Old Marius, who had been hunted 
through marsh and forest, and had been hiding with 
difficulty in Africa, came back at the news that Italy 
had risen again ; and six thousand of his veterans 
flocked to him at the sound of his name. The Sen- 
ate issued proclamations. The limitations on the Ital- 



Marius and Cinna. 73 

ian francliise left by Sylla were abandoned. Every 
privilege which had been asked for was conceded. 
It was too late. Concessions made in fear might be 
withdrawn on the return of safety. Marius and 
Cinna joined their forces. The few troops in the pay 
of the Senate deserted to them. They appeared to- 
jgether at the gates of the city, and Rome capitulated. 
There was a bloody score to be wiped out. There 
would have been neither cruelty nor injustice in the 
most severe inquiry into the massacre in the Forum, 
and the most exemplar}^ punishment of Octavius and 
bis companions. But the blood of the people was up, 
and they had suffered too deeply to wait for the tardy 
processes of law. They had not been the aggressors. 
They had assembled lawfully to assert their constitu- 
tional rights ; they had been cut in pieces as if they 
had been insurgent slaves, and the assassins were not 
individuals, but a political party in the State. 

Marius bears the chief blame for the scenes which 
followed. Undoubtedly he was in no pleasant humor. 
A price had been set on his head, his house had been 
destroyed, his property had been confiscated, he him- 
self had been chased like a wild beast, and he had 
not deserved such treatment. He had saved Italy 
when but for him it would have been wasted by the 
swords of the Germans. His power had afterwards 
been absolute, but he had not abused it for party pur- 
poses. The Senate had no reason to complain of 
him. He had touched none of their privileges, Jjica- 
pable and dishonest as he knew them to be. His 
crime in their eyes had been his eminence. They 
had now shown themselves as cruel as they were 
worthless ; and if public justice was disposed to make 
an end of them, he saw no cause for interference. 



74 CcBsar. 

Thus the familiar story repeated itself ; wrong was 
punished by wrong, and another item was entered on 
the bloody account which was being scored up year 
after year. The noble lords and their friends had 
killed the people in the Forum. They were killed in 
turn by the soldiers of Marius. Fifty senators per- 
ished, not those who were specially guilty, but those 
who were most politically marked as patrician lead- 
ers. With them fell a thousand equites, commoners 
of fortune, who had thrown in their lot with the aris- 
tocracy. From retaliatory political revenge the tran- 
sition was easy to pillage and wholesale murder ; and 
for many days the wretched city was made a prey to 
robbers and cut- throats. 

So ended the year 87, the darkest and bloodiest 
which the guilty city had yet experienced. Marius 
and Cinna were chosen consuls for the year ensuing, 
and a witches' prophecy was fulfilled, that Marius 
should have a seventh consulate. But the glory had 
departed from him. His sun was already setting, 
redly, among crimson clouds. He lived but a fort- 
night after his inauguration, and he died in his bed 
on the 18th of January, at the age of seventy-one. 

'' The mother of the Gracchi," said Mirabeau, 
" cast the dust of her murdered sons into the air, and 
out of it sprang Caius Marius." The Gracchi were 
perhaps not forgotten in the retribution ; but the 
crime which had been revenged by Marius was the 
massacre in the Forum by Octavius and his friends. 
The aristocracy found no mercy, because they had 
shown no mercy. They had been guilty of the most 
wantonly wicked cruelty which the Roman annals 
had yet recorded. They were not defending their 
country against a national drtnger. They were en- 



The Democratic Ilcvolution. ■ 75 

gaged in what has been called in later years " saving 
society," that is to say, in saving their own privileges, 
their opportunities for plunder, their palaces, their 
estates, and their game preserves. They had treated 
the people as if they were so many cattle grown 
troublesome to their masters, and the cattle were hu- 
man beings with vights as real as their own. 

The democratic part}^ were now masters of the situ- 
ation, and so continued for almost four years. Cinna 
succeeded to the consulsiiip term after term, nominat- 
ing himself and his colleagues. The franchise was 
given to the Italians without reserve or qualification. 
Northern Italy was still excluded, being not called 
Italy, but Cisalpine Gaul. South of the Po distinc- 
tions of citizenship ceased to exist. The constitution 
became a rehearsal of the Empire, a democracy con- 
trolled and guided by a popular Dictator. The aristo- 
crats who had escaped massacre fled to Sylla in Asia, 
and for a brief interval Rome drew its breath iu 
peace. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

JR EVOLUTIONARY periods are painted in history in 
colors so dark that the reader wonders how, amidst 
such scenes, peaceful human beings could continue to 
exist. He forgets that the historian describes only 
the abnormal incidents which broke the current of 
ordinary life, and that between the spasms of vio- 
lence there were long quiet intervals when the ordi- 
nary occupations of men went on as usual. Cinna's 
continuous consulship was uncomfortable to the upper 
classes, but the daily business of a great city pursued 
its beaten way. Tradesmen and merchants made 
money, and lawyers pleaded, and priests prayed in 
the temples, and " celebrated " on festival and holy 
day. And now for the first time we catch a personal 
view of young Julius Caesar. He was growing up, 
in his father's house, a tall slight handsome youth, 
with dark piercing eyes,^ a sallow complexion, large 
nose, lips full, features refined and intellectual, neck 
sinewy and thick, beyond what might have been ex- 
pected from the generally slender figure. He was 
particular about his appearance, used the bath fre- 
quently, and attended carefully to his hair. His^dress 
was arranged with studied neghgence, and he had a 
loose mode of fastening his girdle so peculiar as to 
catch the eye. 

It may be supposed that be had witnessed Sylla's 
coming to Rome, the camp-fires in the Forum, the 

1 " Nigris vegetisque oculis." — Suetonius. 



Youth and Marriage. 77 

Octavian massacre, the return of his uncle and Cinna, 
and the bloody triumph of the party to which his fa- 
ther belonged. He was just at the age when such 
scenes make an indelible impression ; and the con- 
nection of his family with Marius suggests easily the 
persons whom he must have most often seen, and the 
conversation to which he must have listened at his 
father's table. ' His most intimate companions were 
the younger Marius, the adopted son of his uncle ; 
and, singularly enough, the two Ciceros, Marcus and 
his brother Quintus, who had been sent by their 
father to be educated at Rome. The connection of 
Marius with Arpinum was perhaps the origin of the 
intimacy. The great man may have heard of his 
fellow-townsman's children being in the city, and 
have taken notice of them. Certain, at any rate, it 
is that these boys grew up together on terms of close 
familiarity.^ 

Marius had observed his nephew, and had marked 
him for promotion. During the brief fortnight of 
his seventh consulship he gave him an appointment, 
which reminds us of the boy-bishops of the Middle 
Ages. He made him flamen dialis, ot priest of 
Jupiter, and a member of the Sacred College, with a 
handsome income, when he was no more than four- 
teen. Two years later, during the rule of Cinna, his 
father arranged a marriage for him with a lady of 
fortune named Cossutia. But the young Csesar had 
more ambitious views for himself. His father died 

1 " Ac primum illud tempus familiaritatis et consuetudinia, quae mihi 
cum illo, quBB fnitri meo, quae Caio Varroni, consobrino nostro, ab omnium 
nostrum adolescentia fuit, praetermitto." — Cicero, De Prodnciis Con- 
%ularibus, 17. Cicero was certainly speaking of a time which preceded 
Sylla's dictatorship, for Caesar left Rome immediately after it, and when 
he came back he attached himself to the political party to which Cicero 
was most opposed. 



78 Ccemr. 

suddenly at Pisa, in B. c. 84; lie used his freedom to 
break off his engagement, and instead of Cossutia he 
married Cornelia, the daughter of no less a person 
than the all-powerful Cinna himself. If the date 
commonly received for Caesar's birth is correct, he was 
still only in his seventeenth year. Such connections 
were rarely formed at an age so premature ; and the 
doubt is increased by the birth of his daughter, Julia, 
in the year following. Be this as it may, a marriage 
into Cinna's family connected Csesar more closely 
thjin ever with the popular party. Thus early and 
thus definitely he committed himself to the politics of 
his uncle and his father-in-law ; and the comparative 
quiet which Rome and Italy enjoyed under Cinna's 
administration may have left a permanent impression 
upon him. 

The quiet was not destined to be of long endurance. 
The timq was come when Sylla was to demand a 
reckoning for all which had been done in his absence. 
No Roman general had deserved better of his country 
than Sylla. He had driven Mithridates out of Greece, 
and had restored Roman authority in Asia under con- 
ditions peculiarly difficult. He had clung resolutely 
to his work, while his friends at home were being 
trampled upon by the populace whom he despised. 
He perhaps knew that in subduing the enemies of the 
State by his own individual energy he was taking the 
surest road to regain his ascendency. His task was 
finished. Mithridates was once more a petty Asiatic 
prince existing upon sufferance, and Sylla announced 
his approaching return to Italy. By his victories he 
had restored confidence to the aristocracy, and hg^d 
won the respect of millions of his countrymen. But 
the party in power knew well that if he gained a 



Return of Sylla from the East. 79 

footing in Italy, their day was over, and the danger 
to be expected from him was aggravated by his 
transcendent services. The Italians feared naturally 
that they would lose the liberties which they had 
won. The popular faction at Rome was combined 
and strong, and was led by men of weight and prac- 
tical ability. No reconciliation was possible between 
Cinna and Sylla. They were the respective chiefs of 
heaven and hell, and which of the two represented 
the higher power and which the lower could be de- 
termined only when the sword had decided between 
them. In Cinna lay the presumed lawful authority. 
He represented the people as organized in the Co- 
mitia ; and his colleague in the consulship when the 
crisis came, was the popular tribune, Carbo. Italy 
was ready with armies ; and as leaders there were 
young Marius, already with a promise of greatness in 
him, and Sertorius, gifted, brilliant, unstained by 
crime, adored by his troops as passionately as Sylia 
himself, and destined to win a place for himself else- 
where in the Pantheon of Rome's most distinguished 
men. 

Sjdla had 'measured the difficulty of the task which 
lay before him. But he had an army behind him ac- 
customed to victory, and recruited by thousands of 
exiles who had fled from the rule of the democracy. 
He had now a fleet to cover his passage ; and he was 
watching the movements of his enemies before decid- 
ing upon his own, when accident came suddenly to 
his help. Cinna had gone down to Brindisi, intend- 
ing himself to c-arry his army into Greece, and to 
spare Italy the miseries of another civil war, by fight- 
ing it out elsewhere. The expedition was unpopular 
with the soldiers, and Cinna was killed in a mutiny. 



80 Cvemr. 

The democracy was thus left without a head, and the 
moderate party in the city who desired peace and 
compromise used the opportunity to elect two neu- 
tral consuls, Scipio and Norbanus. Sylla, perhaps 
supposing the change of feeling to be more complete 
than it really was, at once opened communications 
with them. But his terms were such as he might 
have dictated if the popular party were already un- 
der his feet. He intended to reenter Rome with the 
glory of his conquests about him, for revenge, and a 
counter revolution. The consuls replied with refus- 
ing to treat with a rebel in arms, and with a com- 
mand to disband his troops. 

Sylla had lingered at Athens, collecting paintings 
and statues and manuscripts, the rarest treasures on 
which he could lay his hands, to decorate his Roman 
palace. On receiving the consuls' answer, he sailed 
for Brindisi in the spring of 83, with forty thousand 
legionaries and a large fleet. The south of Italy made 
no resistance, and he secured a standing ground 
where his friends could rally to him. They came in 
rapidly, some for the cause which he represented, some 
for private hojDes or animosities, some as aspiring 
military adventurers, seeking the patronage of the 
greatest soldier of the age. Among these last came 
Cnseus Pompey, afterwards Pompey the Great, son 
of Pompey, surnamed Strabo or the squint-eyed, 
either from some personal deformity, or because he 
had trimmed between the two factions, and was dis- 
trusted and hated by them both. 

Cnaeus Pompey had been born in the same year 
with Cicero, and was now twenty-three. He was a 
high-spirited ornamental youth, with soft melting 
eyes, as good as he was beautiful, and so delightful 



Syllas Return. 81 

to women that it was said they all longed to bite 
him. The Pompeys had been hardly treated by 
Cinna. The father had been charged with embezzle- 
ment. The family house in Rome had been confis- 
cated ; the old Strabo had been killed ; the son had 
retired to his family estate in Picenum,^ where ho 
was living when Sylla landed. To the young Roman 
chivalry, Sylla was a hero of romance. Pompey 
raised a legion out of his friends and tenants, scat- 
tered the few companies that tried to stop him, and 
rushed to the side of the deliverer. Others came, 
like Sergius Catiline or Oppianicus of Larino,^ men 
steeped in crime, stained with murder, incest, adul- 
tery, forgery, and meaning to secure the fruits of 
their villainies by well-timed service. They were all 
welcome, and Sylla was not particular. His prog- 
ress was less rapid than it promised to be at the 
outset. He easily defeated Norbanus; and Scipio's 
troops, having an aristocratic leaven in them, de- 
serted to him. But the Italians, especially the Sam- 
nites, fought most desperately. The war lasted for 
more than a year, Sylla slowly advancing. The 
Roman mob became furious. They believed their 
cause betrayed, and were savage from fear and dis- 
appointment. Suspected patricians were murdered : 
among them fell the Pontifex Maximus, the venera- 
ble Scsevola. At length the contest ended in a des- 
perate fight under the walls of Rome itself on the 1st 
of November, B. C. 82. The battle began at four in 
the afternoon, and lasted through the night to the 
dawn of the following day. The popular army was 
at last cut to pieces, a few thousand prisoners were 

^ On the Adriatic, between Ancona and Pescara. 

'^ See, for the story cf Oppianicus, the remarkable speech of Cicero, 
Pro Clueutio. 



82 Ccesar. 

taken, but they were murdered afterwards in cold 
blood. Young Marius killed himself, Sertorius fled 
to Spain, and Sylla and the aristocracy were masters 
of Rome and Italy. Such provincial towns as con- 
tinued to resist were stormed and given up to pillage, 
every male inhabitant being put to the sword. At 
Norba, in Latium, the desperate citizens fired their 
own houses and perished by each other's hands. 

Sylla was under no illusions. He understood the 
problem which he had in hand. He knew that the 
aristocracy were detested by nine tenths of the peo- 
ple ; he knew that they deserved to be detested ; but 
they were at least gentlemen by birth and breeding. 
The democrats, on the other hand, were insolent up- 
starts, who, instead of being grateful for being al- 
lowed to "live and work and pay taxes and serve in 
the army, had dared to claim a share in the govern- 
ment, had turned against their masters, and had set 
their feet upon their necks. The miserable multi- 
tude were least to blame. They were ignorant, and 
with out leaders could be controlled easily. The guilt 
and the danger lay with the men of wealth and intel- 
lect, the country gentlemen, the minority of knights 
and patricians like Cinna, who had taken the popular 
side and had deserted their own order. Their mo- 
tives mattered not ; some might have acted from 
foolish enthusiasm ; some from personal ambition ; 
but such traitors, from the Gracchi onwards, had 
caused all the mischief which had happened to the 
State. They were determined, they were persever- 
ing. No concessions had satisfied them, and one de- 
mand had been a prelude to another. There was no 
hope for an end of agitation, till every one of these 
men had been rooted out, their estates taken from 
them, and their families destroyed. 



I 



The Proscription of the Democrats. 83 

To this remarkable work Sylla addressed himself, 
unconscious that he was attempthig au impossibility, 
that opinion could not be controlled by the sword, 
and that for every enemy to the oligarcliy that ho 
killed he would create twenty by his cruulty. Like 
Marius after the Octavian massacre, he did not at- 
tempt to distinguish between degrees of culpability. 
Guilt was not the question with him. His object 
was less to punish the past, than to prevent a recur- 
rence of it ; and moderate opposition was as objec- 
tionable as fanaticism and frenzy. He had no inten- 
tion of keeping power in his own hands. Personal 
supremacy might end with himself ; and he intended 
to create institutions which would endure, in the 
form of a close senatorial monopoly. But for his 
purpose it would be necessary to remove out of the 
way every single person, either in Rome or in the 
provinces, who was in a position to olfer active re- 
sistance, and, therefore, for the moment he required 
complete freedom of action. The Senate at his di- 
rection appointed him Dictator, and in this capacity 
he became absolute master of the life and property 
of every man and woman in Italy. He inight be im- 
peached afterwards and his polic}^ reversed, but while 
his office lasted he could do what he pleased. 

He at once outlawed every magistrate, every public 
jervant of any kind, civil or municipal, who had held 
office under the rule of Cinna. Lists were drawn 
for him of the persons of wealth and consequence all 
•>ver Italy who belonged to the liberal party. He se- 
lected agents whom he could trust, or supposed he 
could trust, to enter the names for eacli district. He 
selected, for instance, Oppi aniens of Larino, who in- 
icribed individuals whom he had already murdered, 



84 Ccesar. 

and tlieir relations whose prosecution lie feared. It 
mattered little to Sylla who were included, if none 
escaped who were really dangerous to him ; and an 
order was issued for the slaughter of the entire num- 
ber, the confiscation of their property, and the divi- 
sion of it between the informers and Sylla's friends 
and soldiers. Private interest w^as thus called in to 
assist political animosity ; and to stimulate the zeal 
for assassination a reward of 600/. was offered for the 
bead of any person whose name was in the sched- 
ule. 

It w^as one of those deliberate acts, carried out with 
method and order, which are possible only in coun- 
tri^is ui cin is.l\aniO(l ^t;;L'e < f ci\ ILzcition, aiia'^'wKch 
show how tliia is the film spread o\er human ferocity 
by what is called progress and culture. We read in 
every page of history of invasions of hostile armies, 
of towns and villages destroyed, and countries wasted 
and populations perishing of misery ; the simplest 
war brings a train of horrors behind it ; but we bear 
them with comparative equanimity. Personal hatreds 
are not called out on such occasions. The actors in 
them are neither necessarily nor generally fiends. 
The grass grows again on the trampled fields. Peace 
returns, and we forget and forgive. The coldly or- 
dered massacres of selected victims in political and 
'spiritual struggles rise in a different order of feelings, 
and are remembered through all ages with indigna- 
tion and shame. The victims perish as the cham- 
pions of principles which survive through the changes 
of time. They are marked for the sacrifice on ac- 
count of their advocacy of a cause which to half man- 
kind is the cause of humanity. They are the martyrs 
of history, and the record of atrocity rises again in 



The Proscription of the Democrats, 85 

immortal witness against the opinions out of which it 
rose. 

Patricians and plebeians, aristocrats and demo- 
crats, have ahke stained their hands with blood in the 
working out of the problem of politics. But impartial 
history also declares that the crimes of the popular 
party have in all ages been the lighter in degree, 
while in themselves they have more to excuse them ; 
and if the violent acts of revolutionists have been 
held up more conspicuously for condemnation, it has 
been only because the fate of noblemen and gentle- 
men has been more impressive to the imagination 
than the fate of the peasant or the artisan. But the 

i endurance of the inequalities of life by the poor is 
the marvel of human society. When the people com- 
plain, said Mirabeau, the people are always right. 
The popular cause has been the cause of the laborer 
struggling for a right to live and breathe and think 
as a man. Aristocracies fight for wealth and power, 
wealth which they waste upon luxury, and power 
which they abuse for their own interests. Yet the 
cruelties of Marius were as far exceeded by the cruel- 
ties of Sylla as the insurrection of the beggars of 
Holland was exceeded by the bloody tribunal of the 
Duke of Alva ; or as " the horrors of the French Rev- 
olution " were exceeded by the massacre of the Hu- 
guenots two hundred years before^ for which the Rev- 
olution was the expiatory atonement. 

Four thousand seven hundred persons fell in the 
proscription of Sylla, all men of education and fort- 
une. The real crime of many of them was the pos- 
session of an estate or a wife which a relative or a 
neighbor coveted. The crime alleged against all was 
the opinion that the people of Rome and Italy had 



86 Ccesar. 

rights wbich deserved consideration as well as the 
senators and nobles. The liberal party were extin- 
guished in their own blood. Their estates were par- 
titioned into a hundred and twenty thousand allot- 
ments, which were distributed auiong Syila's friends, 
or soldiers, or freed men. The Land reform of the 
Gracchi was mockingly adopted to create a permanent 
aristocratic garrison. There were no trials, there 
were no pardons. Common report or private infor- 
mation was at once indictment and evidence, and ac- 
cusation was in itself condemnation. 

The ground being thus cleared, the Dictator took 
up again his measures of political reform. He did 
not attempt a second time to take the franchise from 
the Italians. Romans and Itahans he was ready to 
leave on the same level, but it was to be a level of im- 
potence. Rome was to be ruled by the Senate, and 
as a first step, and to protect the Senate's dignity, he 
enfranchised ten thousand slaves who had belonged 
to the proscribed gentlemen, and formed them into 
a senatorial guard. Before departing for the East, 
he had doubled the Senate's numbers out of the pa- 
trician order. Under Cinna the new members had 
not claimed their privilege, and had probably been 
absent from Italy. They were now installed in their 
places, and the power of the censors to revise the hsfc 
and remove those who had proved unworthy was 
taken away. The senators were thus peers for life, 
peers in a single chamber which Sylla meant to make 
omnipotent. Vacancies were to be supplied as before 
from the retiring consuls, praetors, gediles, and quses- 
tors. The form of a popular constitution would re- 
main, since the road into the council of State lay 
through the popular elections. But to guard against 



Sylla's Reforms. 87 

popular favorites finding access to the consulship, a 
provision was made that no person who had been a 
tribune of the people could be chosen afterwards to 
any other office. 

The Senate's power depended on the withdrawal 
from the assembly of citizens of the right of original 
legislation. So long as the citizens could act imme- 
diately at the invitation of either consul or tribune 
they could repeal at their pleasure any arrangement 
which Sylla might prescribe. As a matter of course, 
therefore, he reenacted the condition which restricted 
the initiation of laws to the Senate. The tribunes 
still retained their veto, but a penalty was attached to 
the abuse of the veto; the Senate being the judge in 
its own cause, and possessing a right to depose a trib- 
une. 

In the Senate so reconstituted was thus centred a 
complete restrictive control over the legislation and 
the administration. And this was not all. The sen- 
ators had been so corrupt in the use of their judicial 
functions that Gracchus had disabled them from sit- 
ting in the law courts, and had provided that the 
judges should be chosen in future from the Equites. 
Tlie knights had been exceptionally pure in their of- 
fice. Cicero challenged his opponents on the trial of 
Verres ^ to find a single instance in which an Eques- 
trian court could be found to have given a corrupt 
verdict during the forty years for which their priv- 
ilege survived. But their purity did not save them, 
nor, alas ! those who were to suffer by a reversion to 
the old order. The Equestrian courts were abolished : 

1 Appian, on the other hand, says that the Courts of the Equites had 
been more corrupt than the Senatorial courts. — De Bello Civili, i. 22. Cic- 
tro was, perhaps, prejudiced la favor of his own order; but a contempo- 
rary aUtement thus publicly mado is far more likely to be trustworthy. 



88 Coesar, 

the Senatorial courts were reinstated. It might be 
hoped that the senators had profited by their lesson, 
and for the future would be careful of their reputa- 
tion. 

Changes were made also in the modes of election 
to office. The College of Priests had been originally 
a close corporation, which filled up its own numbers. 
Democracy had thrown it open to competition, and 
given the choice to the people. Sylla reverted to the 
old rule. Consuls like Marius and Cinna, who had 
the confidence of the people, had been reelected year 
after year, and had been virtual kings. Sylla pro- 
vided that ten years must elapse between a first con- 
sulship and a second. Nor was any one to be a con- 
sul who was not forty-three years old, and had not 
passed already through the lower senatorial offices of 
praator or qusestor. 

The assembly of the people had been shorn of its 
legislative powers. There was no longer, therefore, 
any excuse for its meeting, save on special occasions. 
To leave the tribunes power to call the citizens to 
the Forum was to leave them the means of creating 
inconvenient agitation. It was ordered, therefore, 
that the assembly should only come together at the 
Senate's invitation. The free grants of corn, which 
filled the city with idle vagrants, were abolished. 
Sylla never courted popularity and never shrank from 
fear of clamor. 

The Senate was thus made omnipotent and irre* 
sponsible. It had the appointment of all the gov- 
ernors of the provinces. It was surrounded by its 
own body-guard. It had the administration com- 
pletely in hand. The members could be tried only 
by their peers, and Avere themselves judges of every 



The Syllan Constitution, 89 

other order. No legal force was left anywhere to in- 
terfere with what it might please them to coDimand. 
A senator was not necessarily a patrician, nor a pa- 
trician a senator. The Senate was,i or was to be as 
time wore on, a body composed of men of any order 
who had secured the suffrages of the people. But, 
as the value of the prize became so vast, the way to 
the possession of it was open practically to those only 
who had wealth or interest. The elections came to 
^ be worked by organized committees ; and, except in 
' extraordinary circumstances, no candidate could ex- 
pect success who had not the Senate's support, or 
who had not bought the services of the managers, at 
a cost within the reach only of the reckless spend- 
thrift or the speculating millionnaire. 

What human foresight could do to prevent democ- 
racy from regaining the ascendency, Sylla had thus 
accomplished. He had destroyed the opposition ; he 
had reorganized the constitution on the most strictly 
conservative lines. He had built the fortress, as he 
said ; it was now the Senate's part to provide a garri- 
son ; and here it was, as Caesar said afterwards, that 
Sylla had made his great mistake. His arrangements 
were ingenious, and many of them excellent ; but the 
narrower the body to whose care the government was 
intrusted, the more important became the question of 
the composition of this body. The theory of election 
implied that they would be the best that the Repub- 
lic possessed ; but Sylla must have been himself con- 
scious that fact and theory might be very far from 
corresponding. 

The key of the situation was the army. As before, 
nc trooi3s were to be maintained in Italy; but be- 

1 Sylla had himself nominated a large number of senators. 



90 Ccesar. 

yond the frontiers, the provinces were held by mili- 
tary force, and the only power which could rule the 
Empire was the power which the army would obey. 
It was not for the Senate's sake that Sylla's troops 
had followed him from Greece. It was from their 
personal devotion to himself. What charm was there 
in this new constructed aristocratic oligarchy, that 
distant legions should defer to it — more than Sylla's 
legions had deferred to orders from Cinna and Carbo? 
Symptoms of the danger from this quarter were al- 
ready growing even under the Dictator's own eyes, 
and at the height of his authority. Sertorius had es- 
caped the proscription. After wandering in Africa, 
he made his way into Spain ; where, by his genius as 
a statesman and a soldier, he rose into a position to 
defy the Senate and assert his independence. He 
organized the Peninsula after the Roman model; he 
raised armies, and defeated commander after com- 
mander who was sent to reduce him. He revived 
in the Spaniards a national enthusiasm for freedom. 
The Roman legionaries had their own opinions, and 
those whose friends Sylla had murdered preferred 
Sertorius and liberty to Rome and an aristocratic 
Senate. Unconquerable by honorable means, Serto- 
rius was poisoned at last. But his singular history 
suggests a doubt whether, if the Syllan constitution 
had survived, other Sertoriuses might not have sprung 
up in every province, and the Empire of Rome have 
gone to pieces like the Macedonian. The one condi- 
tion of the continuance of the Roman dominion was 
the existence of a central authority which the army 
as a profession could respect ; and the traditionary 
reverence which attached to the Roman Senate would 
scarcely have secured their disinterested iittachment 



Pompey, 91 

to five liuiidred elderly rich men who Lad bought 
their way into preeminence. 

Syria did not live to see the significance of the Ser- 
torian revolt. He experienced, however, himself, in 
a milder form, an explosion of miUtary sauciness. 
Yoiing Pompey had been sent, after the occupation 
of Rome, to settle Sicily and Africa. He did his 
work well and rapidly, and when it was over he re- 
ceived orders from the Senate to dismiss his troops. 
An order from Syha, Pompey would have obeyed ; 
but what was the Senate, that an ambitious brilliant 
youth with arms in his hands should send away an 
army devoted to him and step back into common 
life ? Sylla liimself had to smooth the ruffled plumes 
of his aspiring follower. He liked Pompey ; he was 
under obligations to him, and Pompey had not acted 
after all in a manner so very unlike his own. He sum- 
moned him home; but he gave him a triumph for 
his African conquests, and allowed him to call him- 
self by the title of " Magnus " or " The Great:' Pom- 
pey was a promising soldier, without political ambi- 
tion, and was worth an effort to secure. To prevent 
the risk of a second act of insubordination, Sylla made 
personal arrangements to attach Pompey directly to 
himself. He had a stepdaughter, named JSmilia. 
She was already married, and was pregnant. Pom- 
pey too was married to Antistia, a lady of good fam- 
ily ; but domestic ties were not allowed to stand in 
the way of higher objects. Nor did it matter that 
Antistia's father had been murdered by the Roman 
populace for taking Sylla's side, or that her mother 
had gone mad and destroyed herself, on her hus- 
band's horrible death. Late Republican Rome was 
not troubled with sentiment. Sylla invited Pompey 



92 Coesar. 

to divorce An tistia and marry JEmilia. Pompey com- 
plied. Antistia was sent away. -Emilia was di- 
vorced from her husband, and was brought into Pom- 
pey 's house, where she immediately died. 

In another young man of high rank, whom Sylla 
attempted to attach to himself by similar means, he 
found less complaisance. Caesar was now eighteen : 
his daughter Julia having been lately born. He had 
seen his party ruined, his father-in-law and young 
Marius killed, and his nearest friends dispersed or 
murdered. He had himself for a time escaped pro- 
scription ; but the Dictator had his eye on him, and 
Sylla had seen something in " the youth with the 
loose girdle" which struck him as remarkable. Close- 
ly connected though Csesar was both with Cinna and 
Marius, Sylla did not wish to kill him, if he could 
help it. There was a cool calculation in his cruelties. 
The existing generation of democrats was incurable, 
but he knew that the stability of the new constitu- 
tion must depend on his being able to conciliate the 
intellect and energy of the next. Making a favor per- 
haps of his clemency, he proposed to Caesar to break 
with his liberal associates, divorce Cinna's daughter, 
and take such a wife as he would himself provide. 
If Pompey had complied, who had made a position of 
his own, much more might it be expected that Csesar 
would comply. Yet Csesar answered with a distinct 
and unhesitating refusal. The terrible Sylla, in the 
fullness of his strength, after desolating half the 
homes in Italy, after revolutionizing all Roman soci- 
etyj from the peasant's cottage in the Apennines to 
the senate-house itself, was defied by a mere boy I 
Throughout his career Ciesar disp]a3^ed always a 
lingular indifference to life. He had no sentimental 



CcEsar and Sylla, 93 

passion about him; no Byronic mock heroics. He 
had not much belief either in God or the gods. On 
all such questions he observed from first to last a 
profound silence. But one conviction he had. He 
intended if he was to live at all, to live master of 
himself in matters which belonged to himself. Sylla 
might kill him if he so pleased. It was better to die 
than to put away a wife who was the mother of his 
child, and to marry some other woman at a Dic- 
tator's bidding. Life on such terms was not worth 
keeping. 

So proud a bearing may have commanded Sylla's 
admiration, but it taught him, also, that a young man 
capable of assuming an attitude so bold, might be 
dangerous to the rickety institutions which he had 
constructed so carefully. He tried coercion. He de- 
prived Caesar of his priesthood. He took his wife's 
dowry from him, and confiscated the estate which he 
had inherited from his father. When this produced 
no effect, the rebellious youth was made over to the 
assassins, and a price was set upon his head. He fled 
into concealment. He was discovered once, and es- 
caped only by bribing Sylla's satellites. X His fate 
would soon have overtaken him, but he had powerful 
relations, whom Sylla did not care to offend. Aure- 
lius Cotta, who was perhaps his mother's brother, 
Maraercus JEmilius, a distinguished patrician, and 
singularly also the College of the Vestal Virgins, in- 
terceded for his pardon. The Dictator consented at 
last, but with prophetic reluctance. " Take him," he 
Baid at length, "since you will have it so — biit I 
wou.d have you know that the youth for whom you 
are so earnest will one day overtlirow the aristocracv, 
foi whom you and I have fouglifc so hardly; in this 



94 Ccesar. 

young Csesar there are many Mariuses." ^ Caesar, 
not trusting too much to Sylla's forbearance, at once 
left Italy, and joined the army in Asia. The little 
party of young men who had grown up together now 
separated, to meet in the future on altered terms. 
Caesar held to his inherited convictions, remaining 
constant through good and evil to the cause of his 
unole Marius. His companion Cicero, now ripening 
into manhood, chose the other side. With his talents 
for his inheritance, and confident in the consciousness 
of power, but with weak health and a neck as thin 
as a woman's, Cicero felt that he had a future before 
him, but that his successes must be won by other 
weapons than arms. He chose the bar for his profes- 
sion; he resolved to make his way into popularity as 
a pleader before the Senate courts and in the Forum. 
He looked to the Senate itself as the ultimate object 
of his ambition. There alone he could hope to be 
distinguished, if distinguished he was to be. 

Cicero, however, was no more inclined than Cassaf 
to be subservient to Sylla, as he took an early oppor- 
tunity of showing. It was to the cause of the consti- 
tution, and not to the person of the Dictator, that 
Cicero had attached himself, and he, too, ventured to 
give free expression to his thoughts when free speech 
was still dangerous. 

Sylla's career was drawing to its close, and the end 
was not the least remarkable feature of it. On him 
had fallen the odium of the proscription and the stain 
of uhe massacres. The sooner the senators could be 
detached from the soldier who had saved them from 

1 So says Suetonius, reporting the traditions of the following century 
bnt the authority is doubtful; and the story, like so many others is per* 
bftpa apocryphal. 



Retirement of Sylla. 95 

destruction, the better chance they would have of 
conciliating quiet people on whose support they must 
eventually rely. Sylla himself felt the position ; and 
having completed what he had undertaken, with a 
half pitying, half contemptuous self-abandonment, he 
executed what from the first he had intended ; he re- 
signed the Dictatorship, and became a private citizen 
again, amusing the leisure of his age, as he had abused 
the leisure of his youth, with theatres, and actresses, 
and dinner-parties. He too, like so many of the great 
Romans, was indifferent to life ; of power for the sake 
of power he was entirely careless ; and if his retire- 
ment had been more dangerous to him than it really 
was, he probably would not have postponed it. He 
was a person of singular character, and not without 
many qualities which were really admirable. He was 
free from any touch of charlatanry. He was true, 
simple, and unaffected, and even without ambition in 
the mean and personal sense. His fault, which he 
would have denied to be a fault, was that he had a 
patrician disdain of mobs and suffrages and the cant 
of popular liberty. The type repeats itself era after 
era. Sylla was but Graham of Claverhouse in a Ro- 
man dress and vrith an ampler stage. His courage in 
laying down his authority has been often commented 
on, but the risk which he incurred was insignificant. 
There was in Rome neither soldier nor statesman who 
could for a moment be placed in competition with 
Sylla, and he was so passionately loved by the army, 
he was so sure of the support of his comrades, whom 
he had quartered on the proscribed lands, and who, 
for their own interest's sake, would resist attempts at 
counter-revolution, that he knew that if an emergency 
arose he had but to lift his finger to reinstate himself 



96 Ci£sar, 

in command. Of assassination be was in no greater 
danger than when Dictator, while the temptation to 
assassinate hira was less. His influence was practi- 
cally undiminished, and as long as he lived, he re- 
mained, and could not but remain, the first person in 
the Republic. 

Some license of speech he was, of course, prepared 
for, but it required no small courage to make a public 
attack either on himself or his dependants, and it was, 
therefore, most creditable to Cicero that his first 
speech of importance was directed against the Dicta- 
tor's immediate friends, and was an exposure of the 
iniquities *»f the proscription. Cicero, no doubt, knew 
that there would be no surer road to favor with the 
Koman multitude than by denouncing Sylla's follow- 
ers, and that, young and unknown as he was, his in- 
significance might protect him, however far he vent- 
ured. But he had taken the Senate's side. From 
first to last he had approved of the reactionary con- 
stitution, and had only condemned the ruthless meth- 
ods by which it had been established. He never 
sought the popularity of a demagogue, or appealed to 
popular passions, or attempted to create a prejudice 
against the aristocracy, into whose ranks he intended 
to make his wa}^ He expressed the opinions of the 
respectable middle classes, who had no sympathy with 
revolutionists, but who dreaded soldiers and military 
rule and confiscations of property. 

The occasion on which Cicero came forward was 
characteristic of the time. Sextus Roscius was a 
countr}^ gentleman of good position, residing near 
Ameria, in Umbria. He had been assassinated when 
on a visit to Rome by two of his relations, who wished 
to get possession of his estate. The proscription was 



First Public Appearance of Cicero. 97 

over, and the list had been closed ; but Roscius's 
name was surreptitiously entered upon it, with the 
help of Sylla's favorite freedman, Chrysogonus. The 
assassins obtained an acknowledgment of their claims, 
and they and Chrysogonus divided the spoils, Sex- 
tus Roscius was entirely innocent. He had taken no 
part in politics at all. He had left a son who was his 
natural heir, and the township of Ameria sent up a 
petition to Sylla remonstrating against so iniquitous 
a robbery. The conspirators, finding themselves in 
danger of losing the reward of their crime, shifted 
their ground. They denied that they had themselves 
killed Sextus Roscius. They said that the son had 
done it, and they charged him with parricide. Wit- 
nesses were easily provided. No influential pleader, 
it was justly supposed, would venture into antago- 
nism with Sylla's favorite, and appear for the defence. 
Cicero heard of the case, however, and used the op- 
portunity to bring himself into notice. He advocated 
young Roscius's cause with skill and courage. He 
told the whole story in court without disguise. He 
did not blame Sylla. He compared Sylla to Jupiter 
Optlmus Maximus, who was sovereign of the Uni- 
verse, and on the whole a good sovereign, but with 
80 much business on his hands that he had not time 
to look into details. But Cicero denounced Chrys- 
ogonus as an accomplice in an act of atrocious vil- 
lainy. The court took the same view, and the rising 
orator had the honor of clearing the reputation of 
the injured youth, and of recovering his property for 
him. 

Sylla sliowed no resentment, and probably felt 
none. He lived for a year after his retirement, and 
died 78 B. c, being occupied at the moment in writ- 
7 



98 Ccesar, 

ing his memoirs, which have been unfortunatel}^ lost. 
He was buried gorgeously in the Campus Martius, 
among the old kings of Rome. The aristocrats 
breathed freely when delivered from his overpower- 
ing presence, and the constitution which he had set 
upoD its feet was now to be tried. 



I 



CHAPTER IX. 

The able men of the democracy had fallen in the 
proscription. Sertorius, the only eminent surviving 
soldier belonging to them, was awa}', making himself 
independent in Spain. The rest were all killed. 
But the Senate, too, had lost in Sylla the single 
statesman that they possessed. The}^ were a body 
of mediocrities, left with absolute power in their 
bands, secure as they supposed from further inter- 
ference, and able to return to those pleasant occupa- 
tions which for a time had been so rudely inter- 
rupted. Sertorius was an awkward problem with 
which Pompey might perhaps be intrnsted to deal. 
jN"o one knew as yet what stuff might be in Pompey. 
He was for the present sunning himself in his mili- 
tary splendors ; too young to come forward as a poli- 
tician, and destitute, so far as appeared, of political 
ambition. If Pompey promised to be docile, he 
might be turned to use at a proper time ; but the 
aristocracy had seen too much of successful military 
commanders, and were in no hurry to give opportuni- 
ties of distinction to a youth who had so saucily de- 
fied them. Sertorius was far off, and could be dealt 
with at leisure. 

In his defence of Roscius, Cicero had given an ad- 
monition to the noble lords that unless they mended 
their ways they could not look for any long continue 
ance.^ They regarded Cicero perhaps, if they heard 

1 "TJnumhoc dico : nostri isti nobiles, nisi vigilantes et boni et fortes 
et misericordes eruxit, iis hominibus in quibus hsec erunt, ornamenta sua 
con<.J>dant necesse est." — Pro Rosclu Amerino. sec. 48. 



100 C(2mr. 

what he said of them, as an inexperienced young 
man, who would understand better by and by of 
what materials the world was made. There had 
been excitement and anxiety enough. Conservatism 
was in power again. Fine gentlemen could once 
more lounge in their clubs, amuse themselves with 
their fish-ponds and horses and mistresses, devise new 
and ever new means of getting money and spending 
it, and leave the Roman Empire for the present to 
govern itself. 

The leading public men belonging to the party in 
power had all served in some capacity or other with 
Sylla or under him. Of those whose names deserve 
particular mention there were at most five. 

Licinius LucuUus had been a special favorite of 
Sylla. The Dictator left him his executor, with the 
charge of his manuscripts. Lucullus was a com- 
moner, but of consular family, and a thorough-bred 
aristocrat. He had endeared himself to Sylla by a 
languid talent which could rouse itself when neces- 
sary into brilliant activity, by the easy culture of a 
polished man of rank, and by a genius for luxury, 
which his admirers followed at a distance, imitating 
their master but hopeless of overtaking him. 

Csecilius Metellus, son of the Metellus whom Ma- 
rius had superseded in Africa, had been consul with 
Sylla in 80 B. C. He was now serving in Spain 
against Sertorius, and was being gradually driven out 
of the Peninsula. 

Lutatius Catulus was a proud but honest patrician, 
with the conceit of his order, but without their vices. 
His father, who had been Marius's colleague, and had 
been defeated by the Cimbri, had killed himself dur- 
ing the Marian revolution. The son had escaped, 



Crassus. 101 

and was one of the consuls at the time of Syila's 
death. 

More noticeable than either of these was Marcus 
Crassus, a figure singularly representative, of plebe- 
ian family, but a family long adopted into the closest 
circle of the aristocracy, the leader and impersonation 
of the great moneyed classes in Rome. Wealth had 
for several generations been the characteristic of the 
Crassi. They had the instinct and the temperament 
which in civilized ages take to money-making as a 
natural occupation. In politics they aimed at being 
on the successful side ; but living, as they did, in an 
era of revolutions, they were surprised occasionally in 
unpleasant situations. Crassus the rich, father of 
Marcus, had committed himself against Marius, and 
had been allowed the privilege of being his own exe- 
cutioner. Marcus himself, who was a little older 
than Cicero, took refuge in Syila's camp. He made 
himself useful to the Dictator by his genius for 
finance, and in return he was enabled to amass an 
enormous fortune for himself out of the proscriptions. 
His eye for business reached over the whole Roman 
Empire. He was banker, speculator, contractor, 
merchant. He lent money to the spendthrift young 
lords, but with sound securities and at usurious in- 
terest. He had an army of slaves — but these slaves 
were not ignorant field hands ; they were skilled 
workmen in all arts and trades, whose labors he 
turned to profit in building streets and palaces. 
Thus all that he touched turned to gold. He was 
the wealthiest single individual in the whole Em- 
pire, the acknowledged head of the business world of 
Rome. 

The last person who need be noted was Marcua 



102 Ccesar, 

^milius Lepidus, the father of the future colleague 
of Augustus and Antony. Lepidus, too, had been 
an officer of Sylla's. He had been rewarded for his 
services by the government of Sicily, and when Sylla 
died was the second consul with Catulus. It was 
said against him that, like so many other governors, 
lie had enriched himself by tyrannizing over his Sicil- 
ian subjects. His extortions had been notorious ; he 
was threatened with prosecution as soon as his con- 
sulship should expire ; and the adventure to which 
he was about to commit himself was undertaken, so 
the aristocrats afterwards maintained, in despair of 
an acquittal. Lepidus's side of the story was never 
told, but another side it certainly had. Though one 
of Sylla's generals, he had married the daughter of 
the tribune Saturninus. He had been elected consul 
by a very large majority against the wishes of the 
Senate, and was suspected of holding popular opin- 
ions. It may be that the prosecution was an after- 
thought of revenge, and that Lepidus was to have 
been tried before a senatorial jury already determined 
to find him guilty. 

Among these men lay the fortunes of Rome, when 
the depa^rture of their chief left the aristocrats mas- 
ters of their own destiny. 

During this time C«sar had been serving his ap- 
prenticeship as a soldier. The motley forces which 
Mithridates had commanded had not all submitted on 
the king's surrender to Sylla. Squadrons of pirates 
hung yet about the smaller islands in the ^gean. 
Lesbos was occupied by adventurers, who were fight- 
ing for their own hand, and the prastor Minucius 
Thermus had been sent to clear tlie seas and extir- 
pate these nests of brigands. To Thermus Caesar 



The Bithynian Scandal. 103 

had attached himself. The praetor, fiiiduig that his 
fleet was not strong enough for the work, found it 
necessary to apply to Nicomedes, the allied sovereign 
of the adjoining kingdom of Bithynia, to supply him 
with a few additional vessels ; and Csesar, soon after 
his arrival, was dispatched on this commission to the 
Bithynian court. 

Long afterwards, when Roman cultivated society 
had come to hate CiEsar, and any scandal was wel- 
come to them which woukh make him odious, it was 
reported that on this occasion he entered into cer- 
tain relations with Nicomedes of a kind indisputably 
common at the time in the highest patrician circles. 
The value of such a charge in political controversy 
was considerable, for whether true or false it was cer- 
tain to be believed ; and similar accusations were 
flung indiscriminately, so Cicero says, at the reputa- 
tion of every eminent person whom it was desirable 
to stain, if his personal appearance gave the story any 
air of probability.^ 

The disposition to believe evil of men who have 
risen a~"Tew"degrees alDOve tlEeiFcont^mporaries, is a 
feature of human nature as common as it is base ; 
and when to envy there are added fear and hatred, 
malicious anecdotes spring like mushrooms in a for- 
cing-pit. But gossip is not evidence, nor does it be- 
come evidence because it is in Latin and has been re- 
peated through man}^ generations. The strength of 
a chain is no greater than the strength of its first 
link, and the adhesive character of calumny proves 
only that the inclination of average men to believe 
the worst of great men is the same in all ages. This 

1 •' Sunt enim ista maledicta pervulgata in omnes, quorum ia adoles- 
eesti^ forma et species fuit liberulis." — Oratio pro Marco Ccelio. 



104 Ccesar. 

particular accusation against Caesar gains, perliajs, a 
certain credibility from the admission tliat it was the 
only occasion on which anything of the kind conld 
be alleged against him. On the other hand, it was 
unheard of for near a quarter of a century. It was 
produced in Rome in the midst of a furious political 
contest. No witnesses were forthcoming, no one who 
had been at Bithynia at the time, no one who ever 
pretended to have original knowledge of the truth 
of the story. Csesar himself passed it by with dis- 
dain, or alluded to it, if forced upon his notice, with 
contemptuous disgust. 

The Bithynian mission was otherwise successful. 
He brought the ships to Thermus. He distinguished 
himself personally in the storming of Mitylene, and 
won the oak wreath, the Victoria Cross of the Ro- 
man army. Still pursuing the same career, CcSsar 
next accompanied Servilius Isauricus in a campaign 
against the horde of pirates, afterwards so famous, 
that was forming itself among the creeks and river- 
mouths of Cilicia. The advantages which Servilius 
obtained over them were considerable enough to de- 
serve a triumph, but were barren of result. The 
news that Sylla was dead reached the army while 
still in the field; and the danger of appearing in 
Rome being over, Csesar at once left Cilicia and went 
back to his family. Other causes are said to have 
contributed to hasten his return. A plot had been 
formed, with the consul Lepidus at its head, to undo 
Sylla's laws and restore the constitution of the Grac- 
chi. Csesar had been urged by letter to take part 
in the movement ; and he may liave hurried home, 
either to examine the prospects of success, or perhaps 
to prevent an attempt, which, under the circum- 



Lepidus and Clnna. 105 

stances, he might think criminal and useless. Lepi- 
dus was not a wise man, though he may have been 
an honest one. The aristocrac}^ had not yet proved 
that they were incapable of reform. It might be 
that they would digest their lesson after all, and that 
for a generation to come no more revolutions would 
be necessary. 

Cajsar at all events declined to connect himself 
with this new adventure. He came to Rome, looked 
at what was going on, and refused to have anything 
to do with it. The experiment was tried 
without him. Young Cinna, his brother-in- cssarWt. 
law, joined Lepidus. Together they raised 
a force in Etruria, and marched on Rome. They 
made their way into the city, but were met in the 
Campus Martins by Pompey and the other consul, 
Catulus, at the head of some of Sylla's old troops ; 
and an abortive enterprise, which, if it had suc- 
ceeded, would 23robably have been mischievous, was 
ended almost as soon as it began. The two leaders 
escaped. Cinna joined Sertorius in Spain. Lepidus 
made his way to Sardinia, where, in the next year, he 
died, leaving a son to play the game of democracy 
under more brilliant auspices. 

C^sar meanwhile felt his way, as Cicero was doing 
in the law courts, attacking the practical abuses, which 
the Roman administration was generating everywhere. 
Cornelius Dolabella had been placed by Sylla in com- 
mand of Macedonia. His father had been a friend 
of Saturninus, and had fallen at his side. The son 
had gone over to the aristocracy, and for this reason 
was perhaps an object of aversion to the younger 
Mberals. The Macedonians pursued him, when his 
government had expired, with a list of grievances of 



106 Ccesar. 

the usual kind. Young Caesar took up their cause, 
and prosecuted him. Dolabelia was a favorite of the 
Senate ; he had been allowed a triumph for his serv- 
ices, and the aristocracy adopted his cause as their 
own. The unpractised orator was opposed at the 
trial by his kinsman, Aurelius Cotta, and the most 
celebrated pleaders in Rome. To have crossed swords 
with such opponents was a dangerous honor for him 
— success against them was not to be expected, and 
Ccesar was not yet master of his art. Dolabelia was 
acquitted. Party feeling had perhaps entered into 
the accusation. C^sar found it prudent to retire 
again from the scene. There were but two roads to 
eminence in Rome, oratoFy^aiid" service in the army. 
He'had no prospect of public employment from the 
present administration, and the platform alone was 
open to him. Plain words with a plain meaning in 
them no longer carried weight with a people who ex- 
pected an orator to delight as well as instruct them. 
The use of the tongue had become a special branch 
of a statesman's education ; and Csesar, feeling his 
deficiency, used his leisure to put himself in training, 
and go to school at Rhodes, with the then celebrated 
Apollonius Molo. He had recovered his property 
and his priesthood, and was evidently in no want of 
money. He travelled with the retinue of a man of 
rank, and on his way to Rhodes he fell in with an ad- 
venture which may be something more than legend. 
When he was crossing the ^gean, his vessel is said to 
Uave been taken by pirates. They carried him to 
Pharmacusa,^ an island off the Carian coast, which 
was then in their possession ; and there he was de- 
tained for six weeks with three of his attendants, 

1 Now Fermaco 



Ccesar and the Pirates. 107 

while the rest of his servants were sent to the near- 
est Roman station to raise his ransom. The 

Casar act. 24. 

pirates treated him with pohteness. He 
joined in their sports, played games with them, looked 
into their habits, and amused himself with them as 
well as he could, frankly telling them at the same 
time that tliey would all be hanged. 

The ransom, a very large one, about 10,000L, was 
brought and paid. Caesar was set upon the mainland 
near Miletus, where, without a moment's deUiy, he 
collected some armed vessels, returned to the island, 
seized the whole crew while they were dividing their 
plunder, and took them away to Pei-gamus, the seat 
of government in the Asiatic province, where they 
were convicted and crucilied. Clemency was not a 
Roman characteristic. It was therefore noted, with 
some surprise, that Caesar interceded to mitigate the 
severity of the punishment. The poor wretches were 
strangled before they were stretched on their crosses, 
and were spared tlie prolongation of their torture. 
The pirate business being disposed of, he resumed his 
journey to Rhodes, and there he continued for two 
years practising gesture and expression under the tu- 
ition of the great master. 

During this time the government of Rome was 
making progress in again demonstrating its unfitness 
for the duties which were laid upon it, and sowing 
ihe seeds which in a few years Avere to ripen into a 
harvest so remarkable. Two alternatives only lay 
before the Roman dominion — either disruption or the 
abolition of the constitution. If the aristocracy c^mld 
not govern, still less could the mob govern. The 
Latin race was scattered over the basin of the Med- 
iterranean, no longer bound by any special ties to 



108 Ccesar. 

Rome or Italy, each man of it individually vigorous 
and energetic, and bent before all things on jiaking 
his own fortune. If no tolerable administration was 
provided from home, their obvious course could only 
be to identify themselves with local interests and na- 
tionalities, and make themselves severally indepen- 
dent, as Sertorius was doing in Spain. Sertorius was 
at last disposed of, but by methods promising ill for 
the future. He beat Metellus till Metellus could do 
no more against him. The all-victorious Pompey was 
sent at last to win victories and gain nothing by 
them. Six campaicjns led to no result, and 

B. C. 78-72. , 

the difficulty was only removed at last by 
treachery and assassination. 

A more extraordinary and more disgraceful phe- 
nomenon was the growth of piracy, with the skirts 
of which Csesar had come in contact at Pharmacusa. 
The Romans had become masters of the world, only 
that the sea from one end of their dominions to the 
other should be patrolled by organized rovers. For 
many years, as Rom.an commerce extended, the Med- 
iterranean had become a profitable field of enterprise 
for these gentry. From every country which they 
had overrun or occupied the conquests of the Romans 
had let loose swarms of restless patriots who, if they 
could not save the liberties of their own countries, 
could prey upon the oppressor. Illyrians from the 
Adriatic, Greeks from the islands and the Asiatic 
ports, Syrians, Egyptians, Africans, Spaniards, Gauls, 
and disaffected Italians, trained many of them to the 
sea from their childhood, took to the water in their 
light galleys with all the world before them. Under 
most circumstances society is protected against thieves 
by their inability to combine. But the pirates of the 



Grotvth of Piracy. 109 

Mediterranean had learnt from the Romans the ad- 
vantage of union, and had drifted into a vast confed- 
eration, Cilicia was their head-quarters. Servilius 
had. checked them for a time ; but the Roman Senate 
was too eager for a revenue, and the Roman govern- 
ors and farmers of the taxes were too bent upon fill- 
ing their private purses, to allow fleets to be main- 
tained in the provincial harbors adequate to keep the 
peace. When Servilius retired, the pirates reoccu- 
pied their old haunts. The Cilician forests furnished 
them with ship timber. The mountain gorges pro- 
vided inaccessible storehouses for plunder. Crete was 
completely in their hands also ; and they had secret 
fiiends along the entire Mediterranean shores. They 
grew at last into a thousand sail, divided into squad- 
rons, under separate commanders. They were admi- 
rably armed. They roved over the waters at their 
pleasure, attacking islands or commercial ports, plun- 
dering temples and warehouses, arresting every trading 
vessel they encountered, till at last no Roman could 
go abroad on business, save during the winter storms, 
when the sea was comparatively clear. They flaunted 
their sails in front of Ostia itself ; they landed in their 
boats at the villas on the Italian coast, carrying off 
lords and ladies, and holding them to ransom. They 
levied black-mail at their pleasure. The wretched 
provincials had paid their taxes to Rome in exchange 
for promised defence, and no defence was provided.^ 
The revenue which ought to have been spent on the 
protection of the Empire, a few patricians were divid- 
ing among themselves. The pirates had even marts 

1 " Videbat enim populum Romanum non locupletari quotannis pecunid 
Dul licS, praeter paiicos : neque eos quidquam aliud assequi classium uomine, 
Disi ut, detrlmentis accipiendis majore affici turpitudiae videremur." — 
Cicero, Pro Lege Manilla^ 23. 



110 Ccesar. 

in different islands, where their prisoners were sold 
to the slave-dealers ; and for fifteen years nothing 
was done or even attempted to put an end to so pre- 
posterous an enormity. The ease with which these 
buccaneers of the Old World were eventually sup- 
pressed proved conclusively that they existed by con- 
nivance. It was discovered at last that large sums 
had been sent regularly from Crete to some of tho 
most distinguished members of the aristocracy. The 
Senate was again the same body which it was found 
by Jugurtha, and the present generation were hap- 
pier than their fathers in that larger and richer fields 
were now open to their operation. 

While the pirates were at work on the extremities, 
the senators in tlie provinces were working systemat- 
ically, squeezing the people as one might squeeze a 
sponge of all the wealth that could be drained out of 
them. After the failure of Lepidus, the elections in 
Rome were wholly in the Senate's hands. Such in- 
dependence as had not been crushed was corrupted. 
The aristocracy divided the consulships, prsetorships, 
and qusestorships among themselves, and after the 
year of office the provincial prizes were then distrib- 
uted. Of the nature of their government a picture 
has been left b}^ Cicero, himself one of the senatorial 
party, and certainly not to be suspected of having rep- 
resented it as worse than it was in the famous prose- 
cution of Yerres. There is nothing to show that 
Verres was worse than the rest of his order. Piso, 
Gabinius, and many others equalled, or perhaps ex- 
celled, him in villainy. But historical fate required a 
victim, and the unfortunate wretch has been selected 
out of the crowd individually to illustrate liis class. 

By family he was connected with Sylla. His father 



Provincial Administration. ill 

was noted as an election manager at the Coriiitia. 
The son had been attached to Carbo when tlie demo- 
crats were in power, but he had deserted them on 
Sylla's return. He had made himself useful in the 
proscriptions, and had scraped together a considerable 
fortune. He was employed afterwards in Greece and 
Asia, where he distinguished himself by fresh rapac- 
ity, and by the gross brutality with which he abused 
an innocent lady. With the wealth which he had 
extorted or stolen he bought his way into the pra^tor- 
ship, probably with bis fatlier's help ; he then became 
a senator, and was sent to govern Sicily — a place 
which had already suft'ered, so the Senate said, from 
the malpractices of Lepidus, and needing, therefore, 
to be generously dealt with. 

Verres held his province for three years. He was 
supreme judge in all civil and criminal cases. He 
negotiated with the parties to ever}^ suit which was 
brought before him, and then sold his decisions. He 
confiscated estates on fictitious accusations. The isl- 
and was rich in-'works of art. Verres had a taste for 
Buch things, and seized without scruple the finest pro- 
ductions of Praxiteles or Zeuxis. If those who were 
wronged dared to complain, they were sent to forced 
labor at the quarries, or, ,as dead men tell no tales, 
were put out of the world. He had an understand- 
ing with the pirates, which throws light upon the 
secret of their impunity. A shipful of tbem were 
brought into Messina as prisoners, and were sentenced 
to be executed. A handsome bribe was paid to Ver- 
res, and a number of Sicilians whom he wished out 
of the way were brought out, veiled and gagged, 
that they might not be recognized, and were hanged 
as the pirates' substitutes. By these methods Verrea 



112 Ccesar, 

was accused of having gathered oat of Sicily three 
quarters of a million of our money. Two thirds he 
calculated on having to spend in corrupting the con- 
suls, and the court before which he might be prose- 
cuted. The rest he would be able to save, and with 
the help of it to follow his career of greatness through 
the highest offices of State. Thus he had gone on 
upon his way, secure, as he supposed, of impunity. 
One of the consuls for the year and the consuls for 
the year which was to come next were pledged to 
support him. The judges would be exclusively sena- 
tors, each of whom might require assistance in a simi- 
lar situation. The chance of justice on these occa- 
sions was so desperate that the provincials preferred 
usually to bear their wrongs in silence rather than 
expose themselves to expense and danger for almost 
certain failure. But, as Cicero said, the whole world 
inside the ocean was ringing with the infamy of the 
Roman senatorial tribunals. 

Cicero, whose honest wish was to save the Senate 
from itself, determined to make use of Verres' con- 
duct to shame the courts into honesty. Every diffi- 
culty was thrown in his way. He went in person to 
Sicily to procure evidence. He was browbeaten and 
threatened with violence. The witnesses were in- 
timidated, and in some instances were murdered. 
The technical ingenuities of Roman law were ex- 
hausted to shield the culprit. The accident that the 
second consul had a conscience alone enabled Cicero 
to force the criminal to the bar. But the picture 
which 'Cicero drew and laid before the people, proved 
as it was to qyqvj detail, and admitting of no an- 
swer save that other governors had been equally 
iniquitous and had escaped unpunished, created a 



Home under Sylla'a Constitution, 113 

etorm which th.e Senate dared not encounter. Verrea 
dropped his defence, and fled, and part of his spoils 
was recovered. There was no shame in the aristoc- 
racy to prevent them from committing crimes : there 
was enough to make them abandon a comrade who 
was so unfortunate as to be detected and brought to 
justice. 

This was the state of the Roman don\inion under 
the constitution as reformed by Sylla : tlie Spanish 
Peninsula recovered by murder to temporary submis- 
sion ; the sea abandoned to buccaneers ; decent indus- 
trious people in the provinces given over to have their 
fortunes stolen from them, tbeir daughters dishon- 
ored, and themselves beaten or killed if they com- 
plained, by a set of wolves calling themselves Roman 
senators — and these scenes not localized to any one 
unhappy district, but extending through the entire 
civilized part of mankind. There was no hope for 
these unhappy people, for they were under the tyr- 
anny of a dead hand. A bad king is like a bad sea- 
son. The next may bring improvemxcnt, or, if his 
rule is wholly intolerable, he can be deposed. Under 
a bad constitution no such change is possible. It can 
be ended only by a revolution. Republican Rome 
had become an Imperial State — slie had taken upon 
heryelf the guardianship of every country in the 
world Avhere the human race was industrious and pros- 
perous, and she was discharging her great trust by 
sacrificing them to the luxury and ambition of a few 
hundred scandalous politicians. 

The nature of man is so constructed that a con- 
stitution so administered must collapse. It generates 
faction within, it invites enemies from without. 
While Sertorius was defying the Senate in Spain, and 



114 Ccesar, 

fche pirates were bnying its connivance in the Med- 
iterranean, Mithridates started into life again in Pon- 
tus. Sylla had beaten liim into submission ; but 
Sylla was gone, and no one was left to take Sylla'a 
place. The watchful barbarian had his correspond- 
ents in Rome, and knew everything that was pass- 
ing there. He saw that he had little to fear by try- 
ing the issue with the Romans once more. He made 
himself master of Armenia. In the corsair fleet he 
had an ally ready made. The Roman province in 
Asia Minor, driven to despair by the villainy of its 
governors, Avas ripe for revolt. Mithridates rose, and 
but for the young Csssar would a second time have 
driven the Romans out of Asia. ^Cassar, in t]ie midst 
of his rhetorical studies at Rhodes, heard the mut- 
terings of the coming storm. Deserting Apollonius's 
lecture-room, he crossed over to the continent, raised 
a coi-ps of volunteers, and held Caria to its allegiance; 
but Mithridates possessed himself easily of the inte- 
rior kingdoms, and of the whole valley of the Eu- 
phrates to the Persian Gulf. The Black Sea was again 
covered with his ships. He defeated Cotta in a na- 
val battle, drove him through the Bosphoriis, and de- 
'stroyed the Roman squadron. The Senate exerted it- 
self at last. Lucullus, Sylla's friend, the only mod- 
erately able man that the aristocracy had 
among them, was sent to encounter hnn. 
Lucullus had been trained in a good school, and the 
superiority of the drilled Roman legions when toler- 
ably led again easily asserted itself. Mithridates was 
forced back into the Armenian hills. The Black Sea 
X^as swept clear, and eight thousand of the buccaneers 
were killed at Sinope. Lucullus pursued the retreat- 
ing prince across the Euphrates, won victories, took 



LucuUus. 115 

cities and pillaged them. He readied Lake Van, he 
marched round Mount Ararat, and advanced to Ar- 
taxata. But Asia was a scene of dangerous tempta- 
tion for a Roman commander. Cicero, though he 
did not name Lucullus, was transparently aUudi ng to 
him when he told the assembly in the Forum that 
Rome had made herself abhorred throughout the 
world by the violence and avarice of her generals. 
No temple had been so sacred, no city so venerable, 
no houses so well protected, as to be secure from their 
voracity. Occasions of war had been caught at with 
rich communities, where plunder was the only object. 
The proconsuls could win battles, but they could not 
keep their hands from off the treasures of their allies 
and subjects.^ 

Lucullus was splendid in his rapacity, and amidst 
his victories he had amassed the largest fortune 
which had yet belonged to patrician or commoner, 
except Crassus. Nothing came amiss to him. He 
had sold the commissions in his army. He had taken 
money out of the treasury for the expenses of the 
campaign. Part he had spent in bribing the admin- 
istration to prolong his command beyond the usual 
time ; the rest he had left in the city to accumulate 
for himself at interest. ^ He lived on the plunder of 

1 " Difficile est dictu, Quirites, quanto in odio simns apiid extevas na- 
tiones, propter eorum, quos ad eas per hos annos cum imperio niisimus, 
injurias ac libidines. Quod enim faniim putatis in illis terris nostris mag- 
istratibus religiosuni, quam civitatem sanctam, quam domum satis claii- 
sam ac mnnitani fuisseV Urbes jam locupletes ac copiosos requiruntur, 

quibus causa belli propter diiipiendi cupiditatem inferatur Quare 

etiamsi quern habetis, qui collatis signis ex'-rcitus vegios superare posse vi- 
deatur, tamen, nisi erit idem, qui se a pecuniis sociorum, qui ab eorum 
conjugibus ac liberis, qui ab ornamentis fanorum atque oppidorum, qui 
ab auro gazaque regia manus, oculos, animum cohibere possit, non erit 
Idonens, qui ad bellum Asiaticura reglumque mittatur." — Pro Lege Ma- 
nilid, 22, 23. 

* "Quern possumus iraperatorem aliquo in numero putare, cujus in ex- 



IlC> Ccesar, 

friend and foe ; and the defeat of Mlthridates was 
never more than a second object to liim. The one 
steady purpose in which he never varied was to pile 
up gold and jewels. 

An army so organized and so employed soon loses 
efficiency and coherence. The legions, perhaps con- 
sidering that they were not allowed a fair share of 
the spoil, mutinied. The disaffection was headed by 
young Publius Clodius, whose sister LucuUus had 
married. The campaign which had opened brilliantly 
ended ignominiously. The Romans had to fall back 
behind Pontus, closely pursued by Mithridates. Lu- 
cuUus stood on the defensive till he was recalled, and 
he then returned to Rome to lounge away the re- 
mainder of his days in voluptuous magnificence. 

While LucuUus was making his fortune in the 
East, a spurt of insurrectionary fire had broken out 
in Italy. The Agrarian laws and Sylla's proscrip- 
tions and confiscations had restored the numbers of 
the small proprietors, but the statesmen who had 
been so eager for their reinstatement were fighting 
against tendencies too strong for them. Life on the 
farm, like life in the city, was growing yearly more 
extravagant.! The small peasants fell into debt. 
Sylla's soldiers were expensive, and became embar- 

ercitu veneatit centuriatus atque venierint ? Quid hunc hominem magnum 
aut amplum de republica cogitare, qui pecuniam ex serario depromtam ad 
bellum administrandum, aut propter cupiditatera provincise magistratibus 
diviserit aut propter avaritiam Romse in qugestu reliquerit ? Vestra ad- 
murmuratio facit, Quirites, ut agnoscere videamini qui h£8c fecerint: ego 
autem neminem nomino." — Pro Lege Manilid, 13. 

1 Varro mentions curious instances of the change in country manners. 
He makes an old man say that when he was a boy a farmer's wife used 
to be coiiteit with a jaunt in a cart once or twice a year, the farmer not 
taking out the covered wagon (the more luxurious vehicle) at all unless 
he pleaoed. The farmer used to shave only once a week, etc. — M. Ter. 
Varrotm Reliquice, (>d. Alexander Riese, pp. 139, 140. 



The G-ladiatoT8. 117 

rassed. Thus the small properties artificially rees- 
tablished were falling rapidly again into tlie market. 
The great land-owners bought them up, and Italy was 
once more lapsing to territorial magnates cultivating 
their estates by slaves. 

Vast gangs of slave laborers were thus still dis- 
persed over the Peninsula, while others in large num- 
bers were purchased and trained for the amusement 
of the metropolis. Society in Rome, enervated as it 
was by vicious pleasures, craved continually for new 
excitements. Sensuality is a near relation of cruelt}^ ; 
and the more savage the entertainments, the more 
delightful they were to the curled and scented patri- 
cians who had lost the taste for finer enjoyments. 
Combats of wild beasts were at first sufScient for 
them, but to see men kill each other gave a keener 
delight ; and out of the thousands of youths who were 
sent over annually by the provincial governors, or 
were purchased from the pirates by the slave-dealers, 
the most promising were selected for the arena. 
Each great noble had his training establishment of 
gladiators, and was as vain of their prowess as of 
his race-horses. The schools of Capua were the most 
celebrated ; and nothing so recommended a candidate 
for the consulship to the electors as the production of 
a few pairs of Capuan swordsmen in the circus. 

These young men had hitherto performed their 
duties with more submissiveness than might have been 
expected, and had slaughtered one another in the 
most approved methods. But the horse knows by the 
hand on his rein whether he has a fool for his rider. 
The gladiators in the schools and the slaves on the 
plantations could not be kept wholly ignorant of the 
character of their rulers. They were aware that the 



118 Ccesar. 

seas were lield by their friends, the pirates, and that 
their masters were again being beaten out of Asia, 
from which many of themselves had been carried off. 
They began to ask themselves why men who could 
use their swords should be slaves when their com- 
rades and kindred were up and fighting for freedom. 
They found a leader in a young Thracian robber 
chief, named Spartacus, who v/as destined for the 
amphitheatre, and who preferred meeting his masters 
in the field to killing his friends to make a Roman 
holiday. Spartacus, with two hundred of his com- 
panions, burst out from the Capuan '' stable," seized 
their arms, and made their way into the crater of 
Vesuvius, which was then, after the long sleep of the 
volcano, a dense jungle of wild vines. The slaves 
from the adjoining plantations deserted and joined 
them. The fire spread, Spartacus proclaimed uni- 
versal emancipation, and in a few weeks was at the 
head of an army with which he overran Italy to the 
foot of the Alps, defeated consuls and prae- 
tors, captured the eagles of the legions, 
wasted the farms of the noble lords, and for two 
years held his ground against all that Rome could do. 
Of all the illustrations of the Senate's incapacity, 
the slave insurrection was perhaps the worst. It was 
put down at last after desperate exertions by Crassus 
and Pompey. Spartacus was killed, and six thousand 
of his followers were impaled at various points on the 
sides of the high roads, that the slaves might have 
before their eyes examples of the effect of disobe- 
dience. The immediate peril was over ; but another 
symptom had appeared of the social disease which 
would soon end in death, unless some remedy could 
be found. The nation was still strong. There was 



A Political Dilemma, 119 

power and worth in the unclegenerate Italian race, 
whicli needed only to be organized and ruled. But 
what remedy was possible ? The practical choice of 
politicians lay between the Senate and the democ- 
racy. Both were alike bloody and unscrupulous; 
and the rule of the Senate meant corruption and im- 
becility, and the rule of the democracy meant ao- 
archy. 



CHAPTER X. 

C^SAE, having done his small piece of indepen- 
dent service in Caria, and having finished his course 
with Appolonius, now came again to Rome, and re- 
entered practical life. He lived with his wife and his 
mother Aurelia in a modest house, attracting no par- 
ticular notice. But his defiance of Sylla, his prosecu- 
tion of Dolabella, and his known political sympathies, 
made him early a favorite with the people. The 
growing disorders at home and abroad, with the ex- 
posures on the trial of Yerres, were weakening daily 
the influence of the Senate. Csesar was elected mil- 
itary tribune as a reward for his services in Asia, and 
he assisted in recovering part of the privileges so dear 
to the citizens which Sylla had taken from the trib- 
unes of the people. They were again enabled to call 
the assembly together, and though they were still un- 
able to propose laws without the Senate's sanction, 
yet they regained the privilege of consulting directly 
with the nation on public affairs. Csesar now spoke 
well enough to command the admiration of even Cic- 
ero — without ornament, but directly to the purpose. 
Among the first uses to which he addressed his influ- 
ence was to obtain the pardon of his brother-in-law, 
the younger Cinna, who had been exiled since the 
failure of the attempt of Lepidus. In B. C. 68, being 
then thirty-two, he gained his first step on the ladder 
Df high office. He was made qusestor, which gave 
him a place in the Senate. 



Connection with Pompey. 121 

Soon after his election, Lis aunt Julia, the widow 
Df Marius, died. It was usual on the death of emi- 
nent persons for a near relation to make an oration at 
the funeral. Csesar spoke on this occasion. It was 
observed that he dwelt with some pride on tlie lady's 
ancestry, descending on one side from the gods, on 
another from the kings of Rome. More noticeably 
he introduced into the burial procession the insignia 
and images of Marius himself, whose name for some 
years it had been unsafe to mention.^ 

Pompey, after Sertorius's death, had pacified Spain. 
He had assisted Crassus in extinguishing Spartacus. 
The Senate had employed him, but had never liked 
him or trusted him. The Senate, however, was no 
longer omnipotent, and in the year 70 he and Crassus 
had been consuls. Pompey was no politician, but he 
was honorable and straightforward. Like every true 
Roman, he was awake to the dangers and disgrace of 
the existing maladministration, and he and CiBsar be- 
gan to know each other, and to find their interest in 
working together. Pompey was the elder of the two 
by six years. He was already a great man, covered 
with distinctions, and perhaps he supposed that he 
was finding in Csesar a useful subordinate. Caesar 
naturally liked Pompey, as a really distinguished sol- 
dier and an upright, disinterested man. They became 
connected by marriage. Cornelia dying, Caesar took 
for his second wife Pompey's cousin, Pompeia ; and, 
no doubt at Pompey's instance, he was sent into 
Spain to complete Pompey's work and settle the 
finances of that distracted country. His reputation 
as belonging to the party of Marius and Sertorius se- 

1 Thi name of Marius, it is to be observed, remained so popular in Rome 
that Cicero after this always spoke of him with respect. 



122 Ccesar. 

cured him the confidence of Sertoriiis's friends. He 
accomplished his mission completely and easily. Ou 
his way back he passed through Northern Italy, and 
took occasion to say there that he considered the time 
to have come for the franchise, which now stopped 
at the Po, to be extended to the foot of the Alps. 

The consulship of Pompey and Crassus had brought 
many changes with it, all tending in the same direc- 
tion. The tribunes were restored to their old func- 
tions, the censorship was reestablished, and the Sen- 
ate was at once weeded of many of its disreputable 
members. Cicero, conservative as he was, had looked 
upon these measures if not approvingly yet without 
active opposition. To another change he had himself 
contributed by his speeches on the Verres prosecution. 
The exclusive judicial powers which the Senate had 
abused so scandalously were again taken from them. 
The courts of the Equites were remembered in con- 
trast, and a law was passed that for the future the 
courts were to be composed two thirds of knights and 
one third only of senators. Cicero's hope of resisting 
democracy lay in the fusion of the great commoners 
with the Senate. It was no longer possible for the 
aristocracy to rule alone. The few Equites who, 
since Sylla's time, had made their way into the Sen- 
ate had yielded to patrician ascendency. Cicero 
aimed at a reunion of the orders ; and the consulship 
of Crassus, little as Cicero liked Crassus personally, 
was a sign of a growing tendency in this direction. 
At all costs the knights must be prevented from iden- 
tifying themselves with the democrats, and therefore 
all possible compliments and all possible concessions 
to their interests were made to them. 

They recovered their position in the law courts 



The Pirates, 123 

and, wliicli was of more importance to them, the sys- 
tem of farming the taxes, in which so many of them 
had made their fortunes, and which Sylla had abol- 
ished, was once again reverted to. It was not a good 
system, but it was better than a state of things in 
which httle of the revenue had reached the public 
treasury at all, but had been intercepted and par- 
celled out among the oligarchy. 

With recovered vitality a keener apprehension be- 
gan to be felt of the pirate scandal. The buccaneers, 
encouraged by the Senate's connivance, were more 
daring tlian ever. They had become a sea community, 
led by high-born adventurers, who maintained out of 
their plunder a show of wild magnificence. The 
oars of the galleys of their commanders were plated 
with silver; their cabins were hung with gorgeous 
tapestry. They had bands of music to play at their 
triumphs. They had a religion of their own, an ori- 
ental medley called the Mysteries of Mithras. They 
had captured and pillaged four hundred considerable 
towns, and had spoiled the temples of the Grecian 
gods. They had maintained and extended their 
depots where they disposed of their prisoners to the 
slave-dealers. Roman citizens who could not ransom 
themselves, and could not conveniently be sold, were 
informed that they might go where they pleased ; 
they were led to a plank projecting ovei* some ves- 
sel's side, and were bidden depart — into the sea. 
Not contented with insulting Ostia by their presence 
outside, they had ventured into the harbor itself, and 
bad burnt the ships there. They held complete pos- 
aession of the Italian waters. Rome, depending on 
Sicily, and Sardinia, and Africa, for her supplies of 
corn, was starving for want of food ; and the foreign 



124 Ccesar. 

trade on which so many of the middle classes were 
engaged was totally destroyed. The return of the 
commoners to power was a signal for an active move- 
ment to put an end to the disgrace. No one ques- 
tioned that it could be done if there was a will to 
do it. But the work could be accomplished only 
by persons who would be proof against corruption. 
There was but one man in high position who could 
be trusted, and that was Pompey. The general to 
be selected must have unrestricted and therefore un- 
constitutional authority. But Pompey was at once 
capable and honest. Pompey could not be 
bribed by the pirates, and Pompey could 
be depended on not to abuse his opportunities to the 
prejudice of the Commonwealth. 

The natural course, therefore, would have been to 
declare Pompey Dictator; but Sylla had made the 
name unpopular ; the right to appoint a Dictator lay 
with the Senate, with whom Pompey had never been 
a favorite, and the aristocracy had disliked and feared 
him more than ever since his consulship. From that 
quarter no help was to be looked for, and a method 
was devised to give him the reality of power without 
the title. Unity of command was the one essential 
— command untrammelled by orders from commit- 
tees of weak and treacherous noblemen, who cared 
only for the interest of their class. The established 
forms were scrupulously observed, and the plan de- 
signed was brought forward first, according to rule, 
in the Senate. A tribune, Aulus Gabinius, intro- 
duced a proposition there that one person of consular 
rank should have absolute jurisdiction, during three 
years, over the whole Mediterranean, and over all 
Roman territory for fifty miles inland from the coast 



The Gahinian Law. 125 

that the money in the treasury should be at his dis- 
position ; that he should have power to raise 500 
ships of war and to collect and organize 130,000 men. 
No such command for such a tiiue had ever been com- 
mitted to any one man since the abolition of the mon- 
archy. It was equivalent to a suspension of the Sen- 
ate itself, and of all constitutional government. The 
proposal was received with a burst of fury. Every 
one knew that the person intended was Pompey. 
The decorum of the old days was forgotten. The 
noble lords started from their seats, flew at Gabinius, 
and almost strangled him : but he had friends ouTr 
side the house ready to defend their champion ; the 
country people had flocked in for the occasion ; the 
city was thronged with multitudes for such as had 
not been seen there since the days of the Gracchi. 
The tribune freed himself from the hands that were 
at his throat ; he rushed out into the Forum, closely 
pursued by the consul Piso, who would have been 
torn in pieces in turn, had not Gabinius interposed to 
save him. Senate or no Senate, it was decided that 
Gabinius's proposition should be submitted to the as- 
sembly, and the aristocrats were driven to their old 
remedy of bribing other members of the college of 
tribunes to interfere. Two renegades were thus se- 
cured ; and when the voting day came, Trebellius, 
who was one of them, put in a veto ; the other, Ro?- 
cius, said that the power intended for Pompey was 
too considerable to be trusted to a single person, and 
proposed two commanders instead of one. The mob 
was packed so thick that the house-tops were cov- 
ered. A yell rose from tens of thousands of throats 
BO piercing that it was said a crow flying over the 
Forum dropped dead at the sound of it. The old 



126 Ccemr. 

patrician Catulus tried to speak, but the people would 
not hear him. The vote passed by acchimation, and 
Pompey was for three years sovereign of the Ro- 
man world. 

It now appeared how strong the Romans were 
when a fair chance was allowed them. Pompey had 
no extraordinary talents, but not in three years, but 
in three months, the pirates were extinguished. He 
divided the Mediterranean into thirteen districts, and 
allotted a squadron to each, under officers on whom 
he could thoroughly rely. Ships and seamen were 
found in abundance lying idle from the suspension of 
trade. In forty days he had cleared the seas between 
Gibraltar and Italy. He had captured entire corsair 
fleets, and had sent the rest flying into the Cilician 
creeks. There, in defence of their plunder and their 
families, they fought one desperate engagement, and 
when defeated, they surrendered without a further 
blow. Of real strength they had possessed none 
from the first. They had subsisted only through the 
guilty complicity of the Roman authorities, and they 
fell at the first stroke which was aimed at them in 
earnest. Thirteen hundred pirate ships were burnt. 
Their docks and arsenals were destroyed, and their 
fortresses were razed. Twent^^-two thousand prison- 
ers fell into the hands of Pompey. To the astonish- 
ment of mankind, Pompey neither impaled them, as 
the Senate had impaled the followers of Spartacus, 
nor even sold them for slaves. He was contented to 
scatter them among inland colonies, where they could 
no longer be dangerous. 

The suppression of the buccaneers was realty a 
brilliant piece of work, and the ease with which it 
was accomplished brought fresh disgrace on the Sen- 



The Manilian Law. 127 

ate and fresh glory on the hero of the houi Cicero, 
with his thoughts fixed on saving the constitution, 
considered that Pompey might be the man to save it; 
or, at all events, that it would be unsafe to leave him 
to l-he democrats who had given him power and were 
triumphing in his success. On political grounds 
Cicero thought that Pompey ought to be recognized 
by the moderate party which he intended to form ; 
und a person like himself who hoped to rise by the 
popular votes could not otherwise afford to seem cold 
amidst the universal enthusiasm. The pirates were 
abolished. Mithridates was still undisposed of. Lu- 
cullus, the hope of the aristocracy, was lying helpless 
within the Roman frontier, with a disorganized and 
mutinous army. His victories were forgotten. He 
was regarded as the impersonation of every fault 
which had made the rule of the Senate so hateful. 
Pompey, the people's general, after a splendid suc- 
cess, had come home with clean hands ; Lucullus had 
sacrificed his country to his avarice. The contrast 
set off his failures in colors perhaps darker than really 
belonged to them, and the cry naturally rose that 
Lucullus must be called back, and the all-victorious 
Pompey must be sent for the reconquest of Asia. 
Another tribune, Manilius, brought the question for- 
ward, this time directly before the assembly, the 
Senate's consent not being any more asked for. 
Csesar again brought his influence to bear on Pom- 
pey's side ; but Caesar found support in a quarter 
where it might not have been looked for. The Sen- 
ate was furious as before, but by far the most gifted 
person in the conservative party now openly turned 
against them. Cicero was prsetor this year, and was 
thus himself a senator, A seat in the Senate had 



128 Cmar. 

been the supreme object of his ambitioi/. He was 
vain of the honor which he had won, and delighted 
with the high company into which he had been re- 
ceived ; but he was too shrewd to go along with them 
upon a road which could lead only to their overthrow ; 
and for their own sake, and for the sake of the insti- 
tution itself of which he meant to be an illustrious 
ornament, he not only supported the Manilian propo- 
sition, but supported it in a speech more effective 
than the wildest outpourings of democratic rhetoric. 
Asia Minor, he said, was of all the Roman prov- 
inces the most important, because it was the most 
wealthy.^ So rich it was and fertile that, for the 
productiveness of its soil, the variety of its fruits, the 
extent of its pastures, and the multitude of its ex- 
ports, there was no country in the world to be com- 
pared with it ; yet Asia was in danger of being ut- 
terly lost through the worthlessness of the governors 
and military commanders charged with the care of 
it. " Who does not know," Cicero asked, " that the 
avarice of our generals has been the cause of the 
misfortunes of our armies ? You can see for your- 
selves how they act here at home in Italy ; and what 
will they not venture far away in distant countries ? 
Officers who cannot restrain their own appetites, can 
never maintain discipline in their troops. Pompey 
has been victorious because he does not loiter about 
the towns for plunder or pleasure, or making collec- 
tions of statues and pictures. Asia is a land of temp- 
tations. Send no one thither who cannot resist gold 

1 "Asia vero tarn opima est et fertilis, ut et ubertate agrorum et vario- 
late frnctuum et magnitudine pastionis, et multitudine earum rerum, quae 
exportentur, facile omnibus terris antecellat." — Pro Lege Manilia. Cic- 
ero's expressions are worth notice at a time when Asia Minor has becoma 
of importance to England. 



Cicerone Speech. 129 

and jewels and shrines and pretty women. Pom- 
pey is upright and pure-sighted. Pompey knows 
that the State has been impoverished because the rev- 
enue flows into the coffers of a few individuals. Our 
fleets and armies have availed only to bring the more 
disgrace upon us through our defeats and losses." ^ 

After passing a deserved panegyric on the suppres- 
sion of the pirates, Cicero urged with all the power 
of his oratory that Manilius's measures should be 
adopted, and that the same general who had done so 
well already should be sent against Mithridates. 

This was perhaps the only occasion on which Cicero 
ever addressed the assembly in favor of the proposals 
of a popular tribune. Well would it have been for 
him and well for Rome if he could have held on upon 
a course into which he had been led by real patriot- 
ism. He was now in his proper place, where his bet- 
ter mind must have told him that he ought to have 
continued, working by the side of Caesar and Pom- 
pey. It was observed that more than once in his 
speech he mentioned with high honor the name of 
Marius. He appeared to have seen clearly that the 
Senate was bringing the State to perdition ; and that 
unless the Republic was to end in dissolution, or in 
mob rale and despotism, the wise course was to recog- 
nize the legitimate tendencies of popular sentiment, 
and to lend the constant weight of his authority to 
those who were acting in harmony with it. But Cic- 
ero could never wholly forget his own consequence, 
or bring himself to persist in any policy where he 
could play but a secondary part. 

The Manilian law was carried. In addition to his 
present extraordinary command, Pompey was in- 

1 Pro Lege Manilia, abridged. 
9 



130 Coesar, 

trusted with the conduct of the war in Asia, and he 
was left unfettered to act at his own discretion. He 
crossed the Bosphorus with fifty thousand men ; he 
invaded Pontus; he inflicted a decisive defeat on 
Mithridates, and broke up his army ; he drove the 
Armenians back into their own mountains, and ex- 
torted out of them a heavy war indemnity. The 
barbarian king who had so long defied the Roman 
power was beaten down at last, and fled across the 
Black Sea to Kertch, where his sons turned against 
him. He was sixty-eight years old, and could not 
wait till the wheel should make another turn. Bro- 
ken down at last, he took leave of a world in which 
for him there was no longer a place. His women poi- 
soned themselves successfully. He, too fortified by 
antidotes to end as they ended, sought a surer death, 
and fell like Saul by the sword of a slave. Rome 
had put out her real strength, and at once, as before, 
all opposition went down before her. Asia was com- 
pletely conquered, up to the line of the Euphrates. 
The Black Sea was held securely by a Roman fleet. 
Pompey passed down into Syria. Antioch surren- 
dered without resistance. Tyre and Damascus fol- 
lowed. Jerusalem was taken by storm, and the Ro- 
man general entered the Holy of Holies. Of all the 
countries bordering on the Mediterranean, Egypt 
only was left independent, and of all the islands only 
Cyprus. A triumphal inscription in Rome declared 
that Pompey, the people's general, had in three years 
captured fifteen hundred cities, and had slain, taken, 
or reduced to submission, twelve million human be- 
ings. He justified what Cicero had foretold of his 
moral uprightness. In the midst of opportunities 
Buch as had fallen to no commander since Alexander, 



Pompey in Asia, 131 

he outraged no woman's honor, and he kept his hands 
clean from " the accursed thing." When he returned 
to Rome, he returned, as he went, personally poor, 
but he filled the treasury to overflowing. His cam- 
paign was not a marauding raid, Hke the march of Lu- 
cullus on Artaxata. His conquests were permanent. 
The East, which was then thickly inhabited by an in- 
dustrious civilized Grgeco-Oriental race, be- 

"Dp fift— Aft 

came incorporated in the Roman dominion, 
and the annual revenue of the State rose to twice 
what it had been. Pompey's success had been daz- 
zlingly rapid. Envy and hatred, as he well knew, 
were waiting for him at home ; and he was in no haste 
to present himself there. He lingered in Asia, organ- 
izing the administration, and consolidating his work ; 
while at Rome the constitution was rushing on upon 
its old courses among the broken waters, with the 
roar of the not distant cataract growing every nao- 
ment louder. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Among the patricians who were rising through the 
lower magistracies and were aspiring to the consul- 
ship was Lucius Sergius Catiline. Catiline, now in 
middle life, had when young been a fervent admirer, 
of Sylla, and, as has been already said, had been an 
active agent in the proscription. He had murdered 
his brother-in-law, and perhaps his brother, under 
political pretences. In an age when licentiousness 
of the grossest kind was too common to attract at- 
tention, Catiline had achieved a notoriety for infamy. 
He had intrigued with a Vestal virgin, the sister of 
Cicero's wife, Terentia. If Cicero is to be believed, 
he had made away with his own wife, that he might 
marry Aurelia Orestilla, a woman as wicked as she 
was beautiful, and he had killed his child also be- 
cause Aurelia had objected to be incumbered with a 
step-son. But this, too, was common in high society 
in those days. Adultery and incest had become fa- 
miliar excitements. Boys of ten years old had learnt 
the art of poisoning their fathers,^ and the story of 
Aurelia Orestilla and Catiline had been rehearsed a 
few years before by Sassia and Oppianicus at Larino.^ 
Other enormities Catiline had been guilty of, which 
Cicero declined to mention, lest he should show too 
openly what crimes might go unpunished under the 

5 " Nunc quis patrem decern annorum natus non modo aufert sed tollit 
uisi veneno? " — Varronis Fraffnienta, ed. Alexander Riese, p. 216. 
2 See the story in Cicero, Pro Cluentio. 



Catiline. 133 

Benatorial administration. But villainy, however no- 
torious, did not interfere with advancement in the 
public service. Catiline was adroit, bold, and even 
captivating. He made his way into high office along 
the usual gradations. He was praetor in B. 0. 68. 
Hs went as governor to Africa in the year follow- 
ing, and he returned with money enough, as he rea- 
sonably hoped, to purchase the last step to the con- 
sulship. He was impeached when he came back for 
extortion and oppression, under one of the many 
laws which were made to be laughed at. Till his 
trial was over he was disqualified from presenting 
himself as a candidate, and the election for the year 
65 was carried by Autronius Psetus and Cornelius 
Sylla. Two other patricians, Aurelius Cotta and 
Manlius Torquatus, had stood against them. The 
successful competitors were unseated for bribery ; 
Cotta and Torquatus took their places ; and, appar- 
ently as a natural resource in the existing contempt 
into which the constitution had fallen, the disap- 
pointed candidates formed a plot to kill their rivals 
and their rivals' friends in the Senate, and to make 
a revolution. Cneius Piso, a young nobleman of the 
bluest blood, joined in the conspirac3^ Catiline threw 
himself into it as his natural element, and aristocratic 
tradition said in later years that Cassar and Crassus 
were implicated also. Some desperate scheme there 
certainly was, but the accounts of it are confused : 
one authority says that it failed because Catiline gave 
the signal prematurely ; others that Csesar was to 
have given the signal, and did not do it ; others that 
Crassus's heart failed him ; others that the consuls 
had secret notice given to them and took precau- 
tions, Cicero, who was in Rome afc the time, de- 



134 Ccesar, 

clares that he never heard of the conspiracy.^ When 
evidence is inconchisive, probability becomes argu- 
ment. Nothing can be less likely than that a cau- 
tious capitahst of vast wealth like Crassus should 
have connected himself with a party of dissolute ad- 
venturers. Had CaBsar committed himself, jealously 
watched as he was by the aristocrats, some proofs of 
his complicity would have been forthcoming. The 
aristocracy under the empire revenged themselves for 
their ruin by charging Csesar with a share in every 
combination that had been formed against them, from 
Sylla's time downwards. Be the truth what it may, 
nothing came of this project. Piso went to Spain, 
where he was killed. The prosecution of Catiline 
for his African misgovernment was continued, and, 
strange to say, Cicero undertook his defence. He 
was under no uncertainty as to Catiline's general 
character, or his particular guilt in the charge brought 
against him. It was plain as the sun at midday .^ 
But Cicero was about to stand himself for the consul- 
ship, the object of his most passionate de- 
sire. He had several competitors ; and as 
he thought well of Catiline's prospects, he intended 
to coalesce with him.^ Catiline was acquitted, ap- 
parently through a special selection of the judges, 
with the connivance of the prosecutor. The canvass 
was violent, and the corruption flagrant.* Cicero did 

1 Pro P. Sulla, 4. 

2 '• Catilina, si judicatum erit, meridie non lucere, certus erit competi- 
tor." — Epist: ad Atticum^ i. 1, 

3 " Hoc tempore Catilinam, competitorem nostrum, defendere cogita- 
mus. Judices habemus, quos volumus, sumraa accusatoris voluntate. 
Spero, si absolutus erit, conjunctiorem ilium nobis fore in rations peti- 
tionis." — Ih. i. 2. 

^ " Scito nihil tam exercitum nunc esse Romseqnam candidates omnibus 
Iniquitatibus." — Ih. i. 11. 



Catiline and Cicero, 135 

not bribe himself, but if Catiline*s voters would give 
him a help, he was not so scrupulous as to be above 
taking advantage of it. Catiline's humor or the cir- 
cumstances of the time provided him with a more 
honorable support. He required a more manageable 
colleague than he could have found in Cicero. Among 
the candidates was one of Sylla's officers, Caius An- 
tonius, the uncle of Marc Antony, the triumvir. This 
Antonius had been prosecuted by Caesar for ill-usage 
of the Macedonians. He had been expelled by the 
censors from the Senate for general worthlessness ; 
but public disgrace seems to have had no effect what- 
ever on the chances of a candidate for the consulship 
in this singular age. Antonius was weak and vicious, 
and Catiline could mould him as he pleased. He 
had made himself popular by his profusion when 
sedile in providing shows for the mob. The feeling 
against the Senate was so bitter that the aristocracy 
had no chance of carrying a candidate of their own, 
and the competition was reduced at last to Catiline, 
Antonius, and Cicero. Antonius was certain of his 
election, and the contest lay between Catiline and 
Cicero. Each of them tried to gain the support of 
Antonius and his friends. Catiline promised Anto- 
nius a revolution, in which they were to share the 
world between them. Cicero promised his influence 
io obtain some lucrative province for Antonius to 
misgovern. Catiline would probably have succeeded, 
when the aristocracy, knowing what to expect if so 
scandalous a pair came into office, threw their weight 
on Cicero's side, and turned the scale. Cicero was 
liked among the people for his prosecution of Verres, 
for his support of the Manilian law, and for the bold- 
ness with which he had exposed patrician delinquen- 



136 Ccesar, 

cies. With the Senate for him also, he was returned 
at the head of the poll. The proud Roman nobility 
had selected a self-made lawyer as their representa- 
tive. Cicero was consul, and Antonius with him. 
Catiline had failed. It was the turning-point of Cic- 
ero's life. Before his consulship he had not irrevo- 
cably taken a side. No public speaker had more elo- 
quently shown the necessity for reform ; no one had 
denounced with keener sarcasm the infamies and fol- 
lies of senatorial favorites. Conscience and patriot- 
ism should have alike held him to the reforming 
party ; and political instinct, if vanity had left him 
the use of his perception, would have led him in the 
same direction. Possibly before he received the votes 
of the patricians and their clients, he had bound him- 
self witli certain engagements to them. Possibly he 
held the Senate's intellect cheap, and saw the position 
which he could arrive at among the aristocracy if he 
offered them his services. The strongest intellect 
was with the reformers, and first on that side he 
could never be. First among the Conservatives ^ he 
could easily be ; and he might prefer being at the 
head of a party which at heart he despised to work- 
ing at the side of persons who must stand inevitably 
above him. We may regret that gifted men should 
be influenced by personal considerations, but under 
party government it is a fact that they are so influ- 
enced, and will be as long as it continues. Csesar 
and Pompey were soldiers. The army was demo- 
cratic, and the triumph of the democracy meant the 
rule of a popular general. Cicero was a civilian, and 
a man of speech. Id the Forum and in the Curia 
he knew that he could reign supreme. 

^ I use a wtrd apparently modern, but Cicero himself gave the name oi 
Donservatoies Reipublicae to the party to which he belonged. 



Ccesar elected ^dile, 137 

Cicero had thus reached the highest step in the 
scale of promotion by trimming between the rival 
factions. Csesar was rising simultaneously behind 
him on lines of his own. In the year B. c. 65 he 
had been sedile, having for his colleague Bibulus, his 
future companion on the successive grades of ascent. 
Bibulus was a rich plebeian, whose delight in office 
was the introduction which it gave him into the so- 
ciety of the great ; and in his politics he outdid his 
aristocratic patrons. The sediles had charge of the 
public buildings and the games and exhibitions in 
the capital. The sedileship was a magistracy through 
which it was ordinarily necessary to pass in order 
to reach the consulship ; and as the aediles were ex- 
pected to bear their own expenses, the consulship was 
thus restricted to those who could afford an extrava- 
gant outlay. They were expected to decorate the 
city with new ornaments, and to entertain the people 
with magnificent spectacles. If they fell short of 
public expectation, they need look no further for the 
suffrages of their many-headed master. Cicero had 
slipped through the sedileship, without ruin to him- 
self. He was a self-raised man, known to be de- 
pendent upon his own exertions, and liked from the 
willingness with which he gave his help to accused 
persons on their trials. Thus no great demands had 
been made upon him. Caesar, either more ambitious 
or less confident in his services, raised a new and 
costly row of columns in front of the Capitol. He 
built a temple to the Dioscuri, and he charmed the 
populace with a show of gladiators unusually exten- 
sive. Personally he cared nothing for these san- 
guinary exhibitions, and he displayed his indifference 
ostentatiously by reading or writing while the butch- 



138 Ocesar, 

eiy was going forward.^ But lie required the favor 
of the multitude, and then, as always, took the road 
which led most directly to his end. The noble lords 
watched him suspiciously, and their uneasiness was 
not diminished when, not content with having pro- 
duced the insignia of Marius at his aunt's funeral, ho 
restored the trophies for the victories over the Cim- 
bri and Teutons, which had been removed by Sylla. 
The name of Marius was growing every day more 
dear to the popular party. They forgave, if they 
had ever resented, his cruelties. His veterans who 
had fought with him through his campaigns came 
forward in tears to salute the honored relics of their 
once glorious commander. 

As he felt the ground stronger under his feet, 
Caesar now began to assume an attitude more per- 
emptorily marked. He had won a reputation in the 
Forum ; he had spoken in the Senate ; he had warmly 
advocated the appointment of Pompey to his high 
commands ; and he was regarded as a prominent 
democratic leader. But he had not aspired to the 
tribunate ; he had not thrown himself into politics 
with any absorbing passion. His exertions had been 
intermittent, and he was chiefly known as a brilliant 
member of fashionable society, a peculiar favorite 
with women, and remarkable for his abstinence from 
the coarse debauchery which disgraced his patrician 
contemporaries. He was now playing for a higher 
stake, and the oligarchy had occasion to be reminded 
of Sylla's prophecy. In carrying out the proscrip- 

1 Suetonius, spe tking of Augustus, says : "Quoties adesset, nihil prse- 
terea agebat, seu vitandi rumoris causa, quo patrem Csesarem vulgo rep- 
rehensum commemorabat, quod inter spectandum epistolis libellisque le* 
gendis aut rescribendis vacaret; seu studio spectandi et voU^ptate," etc. — • 
Vita Octavii, 45. 



Inquiry into the Syllan Proscription. 139 

tion, Sylla had employed professional assassins, and 
payments had been made out of the treasury to 
wretches who came to him with bloody trophies in 
their hands to demand the promised fees. The time 
had come when these doings were to be looked into ; 
hundreds of men had been murdered, their estates 
confiscated, and their families ruined, who had not 
been even ostensibly guilty of any public crime. At 
Caesar's instance an inquiry was ordered. He him- 
self was appointed Judex Qusestionis, or chairman of 
a committee of investigation ; and Catiline, among 
others, was called to answer for himself — a curious 
commentary on Caesar's supposed connection with 
him. 

Nor did the inquisition stop with Sylla. Titus La- 
bienus, afterwards so famous and so infa- 

B C 63. 

mous, was then tribune of the people. His 
father had been killed at the side of Saturninus and 
Glaucia thirty-seven years before, when the young 
lords of Rome had unroofed the senate house, and had 
pelted them and their companions to death with tiles. 
One of the actors in the scene, Caius Rabirius, now 
a very old man, was still alive. Labienus prosecuted 
him before Caesar. Rabirius was condemned, and ap- 
pealed to the people; and Cicero, who had just been 
made consul, spoke in his defence. On this occasion 
Cicero for the first time came actively in collision 
with Caesar. His language contrasted remarkably 
with the tone of his speeches against Verres and for 
the Manilian law. It was adroit, for he charged Ma- 
rius with having shared the guilt, if guilt there had 
been, in the death of those men ; but the burden of 
what he said was to defend enthusiastically the con- 
servative aristocracy, and to censui-e with all his bit- 



140 Goemr. 

terness the democratic reformers. Rabirius was ac- 
quitted, perhaps justly. It was a hard thing to revive 
the memory of a political crime which had been shared 
by the whole patrician order after so long an interval. 
But Cicero had shown his new colors ; no help, it was 
evident, was thenceforward to be expected from him 
in the direction of reform. The popular party re- 
plied in a singular manner. The office of Pontifes 
Maximus was the most coveted of all the honors to 
which a Roman citizen could aspire. It was held for 
life : it was splendidly endowed ; and there still hung 
about the pontificate the traditionary dignity attach- 
ing to the chief of the once sincerely believed Roman 
religion. Like other objects of ambition, the nomi- 
nation had fallen, with the growth of democracy, to 
the people, but the position had always been held by 
some member of the old aristocracy ; and Sylla, to se- 
cure them in the possession of it, had reverted to the 
ancient constitution, and had restored to the Sacred 
College the privilege of choosing their head. Under 
the impulse which the popular party had received 
from Pompey's successes, Labienus carried a vote in 
the assembly, by which the people resumed the nom- 
ination to the pontificate to themselves. In the same 
year it fell vacant by the death of the aged Metellus 
Pius. Two patricians, Quintus Catulus and Caesar's 
old general Servilius Isauricus, were the Senate's can- 
didates, and vast sums were subscribed and spent to 
secure the success of one or other of the two. C^sar 
came forward to oppose them. Csesar aspired to be 
Pontifex Maximus — Pope of Rome — he who of all 
men living was the least given to illusion ; he who 
waa the most frank in his confession of entire disbe- 
lief in the legends which, though few credited them 



The Pontificate, 141 

any more, yet almost all thought it decent to pretend 
to credit. Among the phenomena of the time this 
was surely the most singular. Yet Csesar had been a 
priest from his boyhood, and why should he not be 
Pope? He offered himself to the Comitia. Com- 
mitted as he was to a contest with the richest mer in 
Rome, he spent money freely. He was in debt al- 
ready for his expenses as sedile. He engaged his 
credit still deeper for this new competition. The 
story ran that when his mother kissed him as he was 
leaving his home for the Forum on the morning of 
the election, he told her that he would return as pon- 
tiff, or she would never see him more. He was chosen 
by an overwhelming majority; the votes given for 
him being larger than the collective numbers of the 
votes entered for his opponents. 

The election for the pontificate was on the 6th of 
March, and soon after Csesar received a further evi- 
dence of popular favor on being chosen prsetor for 
the next year. As the liberal party was growing in 
courage and definiteness, Cicero showed himself more 
decidedly on the other side. Now was the time for 
him, highly placed as he was, to prevent a repeti- 
tion of the scandals which he had so eloquently de- 
nounced, to pass laws which no future Verres or 
Lucullus could dare to defy. Now was his opportu- 
nity to take the wind out of the reformers' sails, and 
to grapple himself with the thousand forms of patri- 
cian villainy which he well knew to be destroying the 
Commonwealth. Not one such measure, save an in- 
effectual attempt to check election bribery, distin- 
guished the consulship of Cicero. His entire efforts 
were directed to the combination in a solid phalanx 
of the equestrian and patrician orders. The danger 



142 Ccesar, 

to society, lie had come to think, was an approaching 
war against property, and his hope was to unite the 
rich of both classes in defence against the landless and 
moneyless multitudes.^ The land question had become 
again as pressing as in the time of the Gracchi. The 
peasant proprietors were melting away as fast as ever, 
and Rome was becoming choked with impoverished 
citizens, who ought to have been farmers and fathers 
of families, but were degenerating into a rabble fed 
upon the corn grants, and occupied with nothing but 
spectacles and politics. The Agrarian laws in the 
past had been violent, and might reasonably be com- 
plained of ; but a remedy could now be found for this 
fast increasing mischief without injury to any one. 
Pompey's victories had filled the public treasury. 
Vast territories abroad had lapsed to the possession 
of the State ; and Rullus, one of the tribunes, pro- 
posed that part of these territories should be sold, and 
that out of the proceeds and out of the money which 
Pompey had sent home, farms should be purchased 
in Italy and poor citizens settled upon them. Ral- 
lus's scheme might have been crude, and the details 
of it objectionable ; but to attempt the problem was 
better than to sit still and let the evil go unchecked. 
If the bill was impracticable in its existing form, it 
might have been amended ; and so far as the immedi- 

1 Writing three years later to Atticus, he says : "Confirmabam omnium 
privatorum possessiones, is enim est noster exercitus, ut tute scis locuple- 
tium." — To Atticus^ i. 19. Pomponius Atticus, Cicero's most intimate 
correspondent, was a Roman knight, who inheriting a large estate from 
his father, increased it by contracts, banking, money-lending, and slave- 
dealing, in which he was deeply engaged. He was an accomplished, cul- 
tivated man, a shrewd observer of the times, and careful of committing 
himself on any side. His acquaintance with Cicero rested on similarity of 
temperament, with a solid financial basis at the bottom of it. They were 
mutaally useful to each other. 



Agrarian Law of Rullus. 143 

ate effect of such a law was concerned, it was against 
the interests of the democrats. The popular vote de- 
pended for its strength on the masses of poor who were 
crowded into Rome ; and the tribune was proposing 
to weaken his own army. But the very name of an 
Agrarian law set patrician householders in a flutter, 
and Cicero stooped to be their advocate. He at- 
tacked Rullus with brutal sarcasm. He insulted his 
appearance ; he ridiculed his dress, his hair, and his 
beard. He mocked at his bad enunciation and bad 
grammar. No one more despised the mob than Cic- 
ero ; but because Rullus had said that the city rabble 
was dangerously powerful, and ought to be "drawn 
off " to some wholesome employment, the eloquent 
consul condescended to quote the words, to score a 
point against his opponent ; and he told the crowd 
that their tribune had described a number of excel- 
lent citizens to the Senate as no better than the con- 
tents of a cesspool. 1 

By these methods Cicero caught the people's voices. 
The plan came to nothing, and his consulship would 
have waned away, undistinguished by any act which 
his country would have cared to remember, but for an 
accident which raised him for a moment into a posi- 
tion of real consequence, and impressed on his own 
mind a conviction that he was a second Romulus. 

Revolutionary conspiracies are only formidable 
when the government against which they are directed 
is already despised and detested. As long as an ad- 
ministration is endurable the majority of citizens pre- 
fer to bear with it, and will assist in repressing vio- 

1 " Et nimium istud est, quod ab hoc tribune plebis dictum est in sen- 
*tu: uibanam plebem nimium in republica posse : exhauriendam esse: hoc 
jnim verbo est usus ; quasi de aliqua sentina, ac non de optimorum civium 
i^enere loqueretur." — Contra Rullum, ii. 26. 



144 Ccesar. 

lent attempts at its overthrow. Their patience, 
however, may be exhausted, and the disgust may rise 
to a point when any change may seem an improve- 
ment. Authority is no longer shielded by the maj- 
esty with which it ought to be surrounded. It has 
made public its own degradation ; and the most 
worthless adventurer knows that he has no moral in- 
dignation to fear if he tries to snatch the reins out of 
hands which are at least no more pure than his own. 
If he can dress his endeavors in the livery of patriot- 
ism, if he can put himself forward as the champion 
of an injured people, he can cover the scandals of his 
own character and appear as a hero and a liberator. 
Catiline had missed the consulship, and was a ruined 
man. He had calculated on succeeding to a province 
where he might gather a golden harvest and come 
home to live in splendor, like Lucullus. He had 
failed, defeated by a mere plebeian, whom his brother 
patricians had stooped to prefer to him. Were the 
secret history known of the contest for the consul- 
ship, much might be discovered there to explain Cic- 
ero's and Catiline's hatred of each other. Cicero had 
once thought of coalescing with Catiline, notwith- 
standing his knowledge of his ' previous crimes : 
Catiline had perhaps hoped to dupe Cicero, and had 
been himself outwitted. He intended to stand again 
for the year 62, but evidently on a different footing 
from that on which he had presented himself before. 
That such a man should have been able to offer him- 
self at all, and that such a person as Cicero should 
have entered into any kind of amicable relations with 
him, was a sign by itself that the Commonwealth was 
already sickening for death. 

Catiline was surrounded by men of high birth, 



Catiline stands for the Consulship. 145 

whose fortunes were desperate as his own. There 
was Lentulus, who had been consul a few years be- 
fore, and had been expelled from the Senate by the 
censors. There was Cethegus, staggering under a 
mountain of debts. There was Autronius, who had 
been unseated for bribery when chosen consul in 65, 
There was Manlius, once a distinguished oflficer in 
Sylla's army, and now a beggar. Besides these were 
a number of senators, knights, gentlemen, and disso- 
lute young patricians, whose theory of the world was 
that it had been created for them to take their pleas- 
ure in, and who found their pleasures shortened by 
emptiness of purse. To them, as to their betters, 
the Empire was but a large dish out of which they 
considered that they had a right to feed themselves. 
They were defrauded of their proper share, and Cati- 
line was the person who would help them to it. 

Etruria was full of Sylla's disbanded soldiers, who 
had squandered their allotments, and were hanging 
about, unoccupied and starving. Catiline sent down 
Manlius, their old officer, to collect as many as he 
could of them without attracting notice. He him- 
self, as the election day approached, and Cicero's 
year of office was drawing to an end, took up the 
character of an aristocratic demagogue, and asked for 
the suffrages of the people as the champion of the 
poor against the rich, as the friend of the wretched 
and oppressed ; and those who thought themselves 
wretched and oppressed in Rome were so large a 
body, and so bitterly hostile were they all to the pros- 
perous classes, that his election was anticipated as a 
certainty. In the Senate the consulship of Catiline 
was regarded as no less than an impending national 
calamity. Marcus Cato, great-grandson of the Cen- 



146 Ccesar. 

sor, then growing into fame by his acrid tongue and 
narrow republican fanaticism, who had sneered at 
Pompey's victories as triumphs over women, and had 
not spared even Cicero himself, threatened Catiline 
in the Curia. Catiline answered, in a fully attended 
house, that if any agitation was kindled against him 
he would put it out not with water, but with revolu- 
tion. His language became so audacious that, on the 
eve of the election day, Cicero moved for a postpone^ 
ment, that the Senate might take his language into 
consideration. Catiline's conduct was brought on for 
debate, and the consul called on him to explain him- 
self. There was no concealment in Catiline. Then 
and always Cicero admits he was perfectly frank. 
He made no excuses. He admitted the truth of what 
had been reported of him. The State, he said, had 
two bodies, one weak (the aristocracy), with a weak 
leader (Cicero); the other, the great mass of the 
citizens — strong in themselves, but without a head, 
and he himself intended to be that head.^ A groan 
was heard in the house, but less loud than in Cicero's 
opinion it ought to have been; and Catiline sailed 
out in triumph, leaving the noble lords looking in 
each other's faces. 

Both Cicero and the Senate were evidently in the 
greatest alarm that Catiline would succeed constitu- 
tionally in being chosen consul, and they, strained 
every sinew to prevent so terrible a catastrophe. 
When the Comitia came on, Cicero admits that he 
occupied the voting place in the Campus Martius with 
a guard of men who could be depended on. He was 
violating the law, which forbade the presence of an 
armed force on those occasions. He excused himself 

1 Cicero, Pro Murend, 25. 



The Catiline Conspiracy. 147 

by pretending that Catiline's party intended violence, 
and he appeared ostentatiously in a breastplate as if 
his own life was aimed at. The result was, that Cati- 
line failed once more, and was rejected by a small 
majority. Cicero attributes his defeat to the moral 
effect produced by the breastplate. But October, 
from the time of the Gracchi downwards ^•^•^• 
the aristocracy had not hesitated to lay pressure on 
the elections when they could safely do it ; and the 
story must be taken with reservation, in the absence 
of a more impartial account than we possess of the 
purpose to which Cicero's guard was applied. Un- 
doubtedly it was desirable to strain the usual rules to 
keep a wretch like Catiline from the consulship ; but 
as certainly,*both before the election and after it, Cat- 
iline had the sympathies of a very large part of the 
resident inhabitants of the city, and these sjmipathies 
must be taken into account if we are to understand 
the long train of incidents of which this occasion was 
the beginning. 

Two strict aristocrats, Decimus Silanus and Lucius 
Murena,^ were declared elected. Pompey was on his 
way home, but had not yet reached Italy. There 
were no regular troops in the whole Peninsula, and 
the nearest approach to an army was the body of 
Syllans, whom Manlius had quietly collected at Fie- 
sole. Cicero's colleague, Antonius, was secretly in 
communication with Catiline, evidently thinking it 
likely that he would succeed. Catiline determined 

1 Murena was afterwards prosecuted for bribery at this election. Cicero 
defended him; but even Cato, aristocrat as he was, affected to be shocked 
at the virtuous consul's undertaking so bad a case. It is observable that 
m his speech for Murena, Cicero found as many virtues in Lucullus as in 
bis speech on che Manilian Law he had found vicfs. It was another symp 
ton- of hi' change of attitude. 



148 Ooesar. 

to wait no longer, and to raise an insurrection in the 
capital, with slave emancipation and a cancelling of 
debt for a cry. Manlius was to march on Rome, and 
the Senate, it was expected, would fall without a 
blow. Csesar and Crassus sent a warning to Cicero 
to be on his guard. C^sar had called Catiline to ac- 
count for his doings at the time of the proscription, 
and knew his nature too well to expect benefit to 
the people from a revolution conducted under the 
auspices of bankrupt patrician adventurers. No citi- 
zen had more to lose than Crassus from a crusade of 
the poor against the rich. But they had both been 
suspected two years before ; and in the excited tem- 
per of men's minds, they took precautions for their 
own reputation's sake, as well as for the tafety of the 
State. Quintus Curius, a senator, who was one of 
the conspirators, was meanwhile betraying his accom- 
plices, and gave daily notice to the consuls of each 
step which was contemplated. But so weak was au- 
thority, and so dangerous the temper of the people, 
that the difficulty was to know what to do. Secret 
information was scarcely needed. Catiline, as Cicero 
said, was " apertissimus^^^ most frank in the declara- 
tion of his intentions. Manlius's army at Fiesole was 
an open fact, and any day might bring news that he 
was on the march to Rome. The Senate, as usual in 
extreme emergencies, declared the State in danger, 
and gave the consuls unlimited powers to provide for 
public security. So scornfully confident was Catiline, 
that he offere<i to place himself under surveillance at 
the house of any senator whom Cicero might name^ 
or to reside with Cicero himself, if the consul pre- 
ferred to keep a personal eye upon him. Cicero an- 
swered that he dared not trust himself with so peril- 
ous a guest. 



The Catiline Conspiracy, 149 

So for a few days matters hung in suspense, Man- 
lius expecting an order to advance, Catiline November 
waiting apparently for a spontaneous insur- ^' ^' ^^• 
rection in the city before he gave the word. In- 
tended attempts at various points had been baffled 
by Cicero's precautions. At last, finding that the 
people remained quiet, Catiline called a meeting of 
his friends one stormy night at the beginning of No- 
vember, and it was agreed that two of the party 
should go the next morning at dawn to Cicero's 
house, demand to see him on important business, and 
kill him in his bed. Curius, who was present, im- 
mediately furnished Cicero with an account of what 
had passed. When his morning visitors arrived, they 
were told that tliey could not be admitted ; and a 
summons was sent round to the senators to assem- 
ble immediately at the Temple of Jupiter Stator — 
one of the strongest positions in the city.^ The au- 
dacious Catiline attended, and took his usual seat; 
every one shrank from him, and he was left alone on 
the bench. Then Cicero rose. In the Senate, where 
to speak was the first duty of man, he was in his 
proper element, and had abundant courage. He ad- 
dressed himself personally to the principal conspira- 
tor. He exposed, if exposure be the fitting word 
when half the persons present knew as much as he 
could tell them, the history of Catiline's proceedings. 
He described, in detail, the meeting of the past even- 
ing, looking round perhaps in the faces of the sena- 
tors, who, he was aware, had been present at it. He 
epoke of the visit designed to himself in the morning, 
which had been baffled by his precautions. He weiU 
back over the history of the preceding half-century. 

1 " In loco munitissimo." 



.1 50 Ccesar, 

Fresh from the defence of Rabirius, he showed how 
dangerous citizens, the Gracchi, Saturninus, Glaucia, 
had been satisfactorily killed when they were medita- 
ting mischief. He did not see that a constitution was 
already doomed, when the ruling powers were driven 
to assassinate their opponents, because a trial with 
the forms of law would have ended in their acquittal. 
He told Catiline that, under the powers which the 
Senate had conferred on him, he might order his in- 
stant execution. He detailed Catiline's past enormi- 
ties, which he had forgotten when he sought his 
friendship, and he ended in bidding him leave the 
city, go, and join Manlius and his army. 

Never had Cicero been greater, and never did ora- 
tory end in a more absurd conclusion. He dared 
not arrest Catiline. He confessed that he dared not. 
There was not a doubt that Catiline was meditating 
a revolution — but a revolution was precisely what 
half the world was wishing for. Rightly read, those 
sounding paragraphs, those moral denunciations, those 
appeals to history and patriotic sentiment, were the 
funeral knell of the Roman Commonwealth. 

Let Catiline go into open war, Cicero said, and 
then there would no longer be a doubt. Then all 
the world would admit his treason. Catiline went ; 
and what was to follow next ? Antonius, the second 
consul, was notoriously not to be relied on. The 
other conspirators, senators who sat listening while 
Cicero poured out his eloquent indignation, remained 
still in the city with the threads of insurrection in 
their hands, and were encouraged to persevere by the 
evident helplessness of the government. The imper- 
fect record of history retains for us only the actions 
5f a few individuals whom special talent or special 



The Catiline Conspiracy. 151 

circumstances distingiiislied, and such information is 
only fragmentaiy. We lose sight of fehe unnamed 
seething multitudes by whose desires and by whose 
hatreds the stream of events was truly guided. The 
party of revolution was as various as it was wide. 
Powerful wealthy men belonged to it, who were po- 
litically dissatisfied ; ambitious men of rank, whose 
money embarrassments weigkted them in the race 
aga-inst their competitors ; old officers and soldiers of 
Sylla, who had spent the fortunes which they had 
won by violence, and were now trying to bring him 
back from the dead to renew their lease of plunder ; 
ruined wretches without number, broken down with 
fines and proscriptions, and debts and the accumula- 
tion of usurious interest. Add to these "the danger- 
ous classes," the natural enemies of all governments : 
parricides, adulterers, thieves, forgers, escaped slaves, 
brigands, and pirates who had lost their occupation ; 
and, finally, Catiline's own chosen comrades, the 
smooth-faced patrician youths with curled hair and 
redolent of perfumes, as yet beardless or with the 
first down upon their chins, wearing scarfs and veils 
and sleeved tunics reaching to their ankles, industri- 
ous but only with the dice-box, night watchers but 
in the supper rooms, in the small hours before dawn, 
immodest, dissolute boys, whose education had been 
in learning to love and to be loved, to sing and to 
dance naked at the midnight orgies, and along with 
it to handle poniards and mix poisoned bowls.^ 

1 This description of the young Roman aristocracy is given by Cicero in 
his most powerful vein: " Postremum autem genus est, non solum numero, 
veram etiam genere ipso atque vita, quod proprium est Catilinoe, de ejus 
delcctu, immo vero de complexu ejus ac sinu; quos pexo capillo, nitidos, 
aut imberbes, aut bene barbatos, videtis, nianicatis et talari bus tunicis; 
velis amictos, non togis: quorum omnis induslria vitJB et vigilandi labor 
in antelucauis coeuis expromitur. In his gregibus onines aleatores, omuea 



152 Ccesar, 

Well miglit Cicero be alarmed at such a combina- 
tion ; well miglit he say, that if a generation of such 
youths lived to manhood, there would be a common^ 
wealth of Catilines. . But what was to be thought of 
the prospects of a society in which such phenomena 
were developing themselves? Cicero bade them all 
go, — follow their chief into the war, and perish in 
the snow of the Apetinhies. But how, if they would 
not go ? How, if from the soil of Rome under the 
rule of his friends the Senate, fresh crops of such 
youths would rise perennially ? The Commonwealth 
needed more drastic medicine than eloquent exhorta- 
tions, however true the picture might be. 

iSTone of the promising young gentlemen took 
Cicero's advice. Catiline went alone, and joined Man- 
lius, and had he come on at once he might perhaps 
have taken Rome. The army was to support an in- 
surrection, and the insurrection was to support the 
army. Catiline waited for a signal from his friends 
in the city, and Lentulus, Cethegus, Autronius, and 
the rest of the leaders waited for Catiline to arrive. 
Conspirators never think that they have taken pre- 
cautions enough, or have gained allies enough ; and in 
endeavoring to secure fresh support, they made a 
fatal mistake. An embassy of Allobroges was in the 
city, a frontier tribe on the borders of the Roman pro- 
vince in Gaul, who were allies of Rome, though not 
as yet subjects. The Gauls were the one foreign 
nation whom the Romans really feared. The passes 

.idulten, omnes impuri impudicique versantur. Hi pueri tarn lepidi ac 
delicati non solum amare et amari neque cantare et saltare, sed etiam sicas 

vibrare et spargere venena didicerunt Nudi in conviviis saltare 

didicerunt." — In CatlUnam, ii. 10. Compare In Pkonem^ 10. 

The Romans shaved their beards at fidl maturity, and therefore "bene 
barbatog " does not mean grown men, but youths on the ed^e of maQ- 
hood. 



The Catiline Conspiracy. * 153 

of the Alps alone protected Italy from the hordes of 
German or Gallic barbarians, whose numbers being 
unknown were supposed to be exhaustless. Middle- 
aged men could still remember the panic at the inva- 
sion of the Cimbri and Teutons, and it was the chi(if 
pride of the democrats that the State had then been 
saved by their own Marius. At the critical moment 
it was discovered that the conspirators had entered 
into a correspondence with these Allobroges, and had 
actually proposed to them to make a fresh inroad 
over the Alps. The suspicion of such an intention 
at once alienated from Catiline the respectable part 
of the democratic party. The fact of the communi- 
cation was betrayed to Cicero. He intercepted the 
letters ; he produced them in the Senate with the seals 
unbroken, that no suspicion might rest upon himself. 
Lentulus ^nd Cethegus were sent for, and could not 
deny their hands. The letters were then opened and 
read, and no shadow of uncertainty any longer re- 
mained that they bad really designed to bring in an 
army of Gauls. Such of the conspirators as were 
known and were still within reach were instantly 
seized. 

Cicero, with a pardonable laudation of himself and 
of the Divine Providence of which he professed to re- 
gai'd himself as the minister, congratulated his coun- 
try on its escape from so genuine a danger ; and he 
then invited the Senate to say Avliat was to be done 
with these apostates from their order, whose treason 
was now demonstrated. A plot for a mere change of 
government, for the deposition of the aristocrats, 
and the return to power of the popular party, it 
might be impolitic, perhaps impossible, severely to 
punish , but Catiline and his friends had planned the 



154 Ccesar. 

betraj^al of the State to the barbarians ; and with per- 
Bons who iiad committed themselves to national trea- 
son there was no occasion to hesitate. Cicero pro- 
duced the list of those whom he considered guilty, 
and there were some among his friends who thought 
the opportunity might be used to get rid of danger- 
ous enemies, after the fashion of Sylla, especially of 
Crassus and Caesar. The name of Crassus was first 
mentioned, some said by secret friends of Catiline, 
who hoped to alarm the Senate into inaction by show- 
ing with whom they would have to deal. Crassus, 
it is possible, knew more than he had told the con- 
sul. Catiline's success had, at one moment, seemed 
assured ; and great capitalists are apt to insure agpinsfc 
contingencies. But Cicero moved and carried a reso- 
lution that the charge against him was a wicked in- 
vention. The attempt against Cassar was more deter- 
mined. Old Catulus, whom Caesar had defeated in 
the contest for the pontificate, and Caius Calpur- 
nius Piso,^ a bitter aristocrat, whom Csesar had pros- 
ecuted for misgovernment in Gaul, urged Cicero to 
include his name. But Cicero vv^as too honorable to 
lend himself to an accusation which he knew to be 
Becember falsc. Somc of the youug lords in their dis- 
&, B. c. 63. appointment threatened C^sar at the sen- 
ate-house door with their swords ; but the attack 
missed its mark, and served only to show how 
dreaded Csesar already was, and how eager a desire 
there was to make an end of him. 

The list submitted for judgment contained the 
names of none but those who were indisputably 
guilty. The Senate voted at once that they were 

1 Not to be confounded with Lucius Calpurnius Piso, who was Csesar's 
father-in-law. 



The Catiline Conspiracy, 155 

traitors to the State. The next question was of the 
nature of their punishment. In the first pLice the 
persons of pubUc officers were sacred, and Lentulus 
was at tlte time a praetor. And next the Sempronian 
law forbade distinctly that any Roman citizen should 
be put to death without a trial, and without the right 
of appeal to the assembly.^ It did not mean simply 
that Roman citizens were not to be murdered, or that 
at any time it had been supposed that they might. 
The object was to restrain the extraordinary power 
claimed by the Senate of setting the laws aside on 
exceptional occasions. Silanus, the consul-elect for 
the following year, was, according to usage, asked 
to give his opinion first. He Yoted for immediate 
death. One after the other the yoices were the same, 
till the turn came of Tiberius Nero, the great-grand- 
father of Nero the Emperor. Tiberius was against 
haste. He advised that the prisoners should be kept 
in confinement till Catiline was taken or killed, and 
that the whole affair should then be carefully inves- 
tigated. Investigation was perhaps what many sena- 
tors were most anxious to avoid. When Tiberius 
had done, Caesar rose. The speech which Sallust 
places in his mouth was not an imaginary sketch of 
what Sallust supposed him likely to have said, but 
the version generall}^ received of what he actually did 
say, and the most important passages of it are cer- 
tainly authentic. For the first time we see through 
the surface of Caesar's outward actions into his real 
mind. During the three quarters of a century which 
had passed since the death of the elder Gracchus one 
political murder had followed upon another. Every 
conspicuous democrat had been killed by the aristo- 

1 "Injussu populi." 



156 Ccesar, 

crats in some convenient disturbance. No constitu- 
tion could survive when the law Avas babituall}^ set 
aside by violence ; and disdaining tbe suspicion with 
which he knew that his words would be regarded, 
Csesar warned the Senate against another act of pre- 
cipitate anger which would be unlawful in itself, un- 
worthy of their dignity, and likely in the future to 
throw a doubt upon the guilt of the men upon whose 
fate they were deliberating. He did not extenuate, 
he rather emphasized, the criminality of Catiline and 
his confederates ; but for that reason and because for 
the present no reasonable person felt the slightest un- 
certainty about it, he advised them to keep within 
the lines which the law had marked out for them. 
He spoke with respect of Silauus. He did not sup- 
pose him to be influenced by feelings of party ani- 
mosity. Silanus had recommended the execution of 
the prisoners, either because he thought their lives in- 
compatible with the safety of the State, or because 
no milder punishment seemed adequate to the enor- 
mity of their conduct. But the safet}^ of the State, 
he said, with a compliment to Cicero, had been suffi- 
ciently provided for by the diligence of the consul. 
As. to punishment, none could be too severe; but 
with that remarkable adherence to /cifc^, which always 
distinguished Caesar, that repudiation of illusion and 
sincere utterance of his real belief, whatever that 
might be, he contended that death was net a punish- 
ment at all. Death was the end of human suffer- 
ing. In the grave there was neither joy nor sorrow. 
When a man was dead he ceased to be.^ He became 

1 The real opinion of educated Romans on this subject was expressed in 
tbe well-known lines of Lucretius, which v/ere probably written near this 

rery time : 

" Nil igitur mors est, ad nos neque pertinet hilum, 
QuaQ<lo(;[uidem natura animi mortalis habetur : 



The Catiline Conspiracy. 167 

as he had been before he was born. Probably al- 
most every one in the Senate thought like Csesar on 
this subject. Cicero certainly did. The only differ- 
ence was, that plausible statesmen affected a respect 
for the popular superstition, and pretended to believe 
what they did not believe. Caesar spoke his convic- 
tions out. There was no longer any solemnity in an 
execution. It was merely the removal out of the 
way of troublesome persons; and convenient as such a 
method might be, it was of graver consequence that 
the Senate of Rome, the guardians of the law, should 
not set an example of violating the law. Illegality, 
Csesar told them, would be followed by greater ille- 
galities. He reminded them how they had applauded 
Sylla, how they had rejoiced when they saw their 
political enemies summarily dispatched ; and yet the 
proscription, as they well knew, had been perverted 
to the license of avarice and private revenge. They 
might feel sure that no such consequence need be 
feared under their present consul : but times might 
change. The worst crimes which had been com- 
mitted in Rome in the past century had risen out of 
the imitation of precedents, which at the moment 
seemed defensible. The laws had prescribed a defi- 
nite punishment for treason. Those laws had been 
gravely considered ; they had been enacted by the 

Et, Telut ante acto nil tempore sensimus Begri, 
Ad confligendum Tenicntibus undique Pcenis ; 
Omnia cum belli trepido concussa tumultu, 
Horrida, contremuere sub altis setheris auris ; 
In dubioque f uit sub utrorum regna cadendum 
Omnibus humanis esset, terrrique, marique : 
Sic, ubi non erimus, cum corporis atque animal 
.^ Discidium fuerit, quibus e sumus uniter apti, 

Scilicet baud nobis quicquam, qui non erimus turn, 
Accidere omnio poterit, i?eusumque moTcre : 
Non, si terra mari miscebitur, et mare coelo." 

Luc&STios lib. Ui U. S42-864. 



158 Ccesar. 

great men who had built up the Roman dominion, 
and were not to be set aside in impatient haste. 
C?esar therefore recommended that the estates of the 
conspirators should be confiscated, that they them- 
selves should be kept in strict and solitary confine- 
ment dispersed in various places, and that a resolu- 
tion should be passed forbidding an application for 
their pardon either to Senate or people. 

The speech was weighty in substance and weight- 
ily delivered, and it produced its effect.^ Silanus 
withdrew his opinion. Quintus Cicero, the consul's 
brother, followed, and a clear majority of the Senate 
went with them, till ifc came to the turn of a young 
man who in that year had taken his place in the house 
for the first time, who was destined to make a repu- 
tation which could be set in competition with that of 
the gods themselves, and whose moral opinion could 
be held superior to that of the gods.^ 

Marcus Fortius Cato was born in the year 95, and 
was thus five years younger than Caesar and eleven 
years younger than Cicero. He was the great-grand- 
son, as was said above, of the stern rugged Censor who 
hated Greek, preferred the teaching of the plough- 
tail and the Twelve Tables to the philosophy of Aris- 

1 In the following century when Caesar's life had become m^'thic, a story 
was current that when Cffisar was speaking on this occasion a note was 
brought in to him, and Cato, suspecting that it referred to the conspiracy, 
insisted that it should be read. Csesar handed it to Cato, and it proved to 
be a love letter from Cato's sister, Strvilia, the mother of Brutus. Mere 
will be said of the supposed liaison between Caesar and Servilia hereafter. 
For the present it is enough to say that there is no contemporary evidence 
for the story at all; and that if it be true that a note of some kind from 
Servilia was given to Ctesar, it is more consistent with probability and the 
other circumstances of the case, that it was an innocent note of business. 
Ladies do not send in compromising letters to their lovers when they are on 
their feet in Parliament; nor, if such an accident should happen, do the 
(overs pass them over to be read by the ladies' brothers. 

2 " Victrix causa Deis placuit, sed victa Catoni." — Lucan. 



The Catiline Conspiracy. 159 

totle, disbelieved in progress, and held by the maxima 
of his father — the last, he, of the Romans of the old 
type. The young Marcus affected to take his ances- 
tor for a pattern. He resembled him as nearly as a 
modern Anglican monk resembles St. Francis or St. 
Bernard. He could reproduce tlie form, but it was 
the form with the life gone out of it. He was im- 
meaaiirably superior to the men around him. He was 
virtuous, if it be virtue to abstain from sin. He never 
lied. No one ever suspected him of dishonesty or 
corruption. But his excellences were not of the re- 
tiring sort. He carried them written upon him in let- 
ters for all to read, as a testimony to a wicked gen- 
eration. His opinions were as pedantic as his life was 
abstemious, and no one was permitted to ditfer from 
him without being held guilty rather of a crime than 
of a mistake. He was an aristocratic pedant, to whom 
the living forces of humanity seemed but irrational 
impulses of which he and such as he were the ap- 
pointed school-masters. To such a temperament a 
man of genius is instinctively hateful. Cato had 
spoken often in the Senate, though so young a mem- 
ber of it, denouncing the immoral liabits of the age. 
He now rose to match himself against Ca3sar ; and with 
passionate vehemence he insisted that the wretches 
wlio had plotted the overthrow of the State should bo 
immediately killed. He noticed Caesar's objections 
only to irritate the suspicion in which he probably 
shared, that Ca3sar himself was one of Catiline's ac- 
complices. That Caesar had urged as a reason for 
moderation the absence of immediate danger, was in 
Cato's opinion an argument the more for aiixiety. 
Naturally, too, he did not miss the oppoi-tunity of 
striking at the scepticism which questioned future ret- 



160 Ccesar, 

ribution. Whether Cato believed himself in a future 
life mattered little, if Csesar's frank avowal could be 
turned to his prejudice. 

Cato spoke to an audience well disposed to go with 
him. Silanus went round to his first view, and the 
mass of senators followed him. Csesar attempted to 
reply ; but so fierce were the passions that had been 
roused, that again he was in danger of violence. The 
young knights who were present as a senatorial guard 
rushed at him with their drawn swords. A few 
friends protected him with their cloaks, and he left 
the Curia not to enter it again for the rest of the year. 
When Csesar was gone, Cicero rose to finish the de- 
bate. He too glanced at Ceesar's infidelity, and as 
Caasar had spoken of the wisdom of past generations, 
he observed that in the same generations there had 
been a pious belief that the grave was not the end of 
human existence. With an ironical compliment to 
the prudence of Coesar's advice, he said that his own 
interest would lead him to follow it; he would have 
the less to fear from the irritation of the people. The 
Senate, he observed, must have heard with pleasure 
that Caesar condemned the conspiracy. Ca3sar was 
the leader of the popular part}^, and from him at least 
they now knew that they had nothing to fear. The 
punishment which Cassar recommended was, in fact, 
Cicero admitted, more severe than death. He trusted, 
therefore, that if the conspirators were executed, and 
he had to answer to the people for the sentence to be 
passed upon them, Caesar himself would defend him 
against the charge of cruelty. Meanwhih^. he said 
that he had the ineffable satisfaction of knowing that 
he had saved the State. The Senate might adopt 
8u©h resolutions as might seem good to them without 



Tlie Catiline Conspiracy. 161 

alarm for the consequences. The conspiracy was dis- 
armed. He had made enemies among the bad citi- 
zens ; but he had deserved and he had won the grati- 
tude of the good, and he stood secure behind the 
impregnable bulwark of his country's love. 

So Cicero, in the first effusion of self-ad mira.tion 
with which he never ceased to regard his conduct on 
this occasion. No doubt he had acted bravely, and he 
had shown as much adroitness as courage. But the 
whole truth was never told. The Senate's anxiety to 
execute the prisoners arose from a fear that the peo- 
ple would be against them if an appeal to the assem- 
bly was allowed. The Senate was contending for 
the privilege of suspending the laws by its own in- 
dependent will ; and the privilege, if it was ever con- 
stitutional, had become so odious by the abuse of it, 
that to a large section of Roman citizens, a conspir- 
acy against the oligarchy had ceased to be looked on 
as treason at all. Cicero and Cato had their way. 
Lentulus, Cethegus, Autronius, and their companions 
were strangled in their cells, on the afternoon of the 
debate upon their fate. A few v/eeks later Catiline's 
army was cut to pieces, and he himself was killed. 
So desperately his haggard bands had fought that 
the}^ fell in their ranks where they stood, and never 
Roman commander gained a victory that cost him 
more dear. So furious a resistance implied a motive 
and a purpose beyond any which Cicero or Sallust re- 
cords, and the commission of inquiry suggested by 
Tiberius Kero in the Senate might have led to curious 
revelations. The Senate perhaps had its own reasons 
for fearing such revelations, and for wishing the 
voices closed which could have made them. 
11 



CHAPTER XIL 

The execution of Lentulus and Cethegus was re* 
ceived in Rome with the feeling which Css- 

fi C 62 

sar had anticipated. There was no active 
sympathy with the conspiracy, but the conspiracy 
was forgotten in indignation at the lawless action of 
the- consul and the Senate. It was still -violence — 
always violence. Was law, men asked, never to re- 
sume its authority ? — was the Senate to deal at its 
pleasure with the lives and properties of citizens ? — 
criminals though they might be, what right had Cic- 
ero to strangle citizens in dungeons without trial ? 
If this was to be allowed, the coustitution was at an 
end ; Rome was no longer a Republic, but an arbi- 
trary oligarchy, Pompey's name ^yas on every tongue. 
When would Pompey come ? Pompey, the friend 
of the people, the terror of the aristocracy ! Pom- 
pey, who had cleared the sea of pirates, and doubled 
the area of the Roman dominions ! Let Pompey re- 
turn and bring his army with him, and give to Rome 
the same peace and order which he had already given 
to the v/orld. 

A Roman commander, on landing in Italy after 
foreign service, was expected to disband his legions, 
and relapse into the position of a private person. A 
popular and successful general was an object of in- 
stinctive fear to the politicians who held the reins of 
government. The Senate was never pleased to see 
any individual too much an object of popular idol- 



Preparations for Pompeys Return. 163 

atry ; and in the case of Pompey their suspicion was 
the greater, on account of the greatness of his achieve- 
ments, and because his command had been forced 
upon them by the people, against their will. In the 
absence of a garrison, the city was at the mercy of 
the patricians and their clients. That the noble lords 
were unscrupulous in removing persons whom they 
disliked they had shown in a hundred instances, and 
Pompey naturally enough hesitated to trust himself 
among them without security. He required the pro- 
tection of office, and he had sent forward one of his 
most distinguished officers, Metellus Nepos, to pre- 
pare the way and demand the consulship for him. 
Metellus, to strengthen his hands, had stood for the 
tribuneship; and, in spite of the utmost efforts of the 
aristocracy, had been elected. It fell to iMetellus to 
be the first to give expression to the general indig- 
nation in a way peculiarly wounding to the illustrious 
consul. Cicero imagined that the world looked upon 
him as its saviour. In his own eyes he was another 
Romulus, a second founder of Rome. The world, un- 
fortunately, had foruied an entirely different estimate 
of him. The prisoners had been killed on the 5th of 
December. On the last day of the year it was usual 
for the outgoing consuls to review the events of their 
term of office before the Senate ; and Cicero had pre- 
pared a speech in which he had gilded his own per- 
formances with all his eloquence. Metellus com- 
men'^ed his tribunate with forbidding Cicero to de- 
liver his oration, and forbidding him on the special 
ground, that a man who had put Roman citizens to 
death without allowing them a hearing, did not him- 
self deserve to be heard. In the midst of the confu- 
tton and uproar which followed, Cicero could only 



164 Ccesar, 

Bliriek that lie had saved his country : a declaration 
which could have been dispensed with since he had 
so often insisted upon it already without producing 
the assent which he desired. 

Notwithstanding his many fine qualities, Cicero was 
wanting in dignity. His vanity was wounded in its 
tenderest point, and he attacked Metellus a day or 
two after, in one of those violently abusive outpour- 
ings, of which so many specimens of his own survive, 
and which happily so few other statesmen attempted 
to imitate. Metellus retorted with a threat of im- 
peaching Cicero, and the grave Roman Curia became 
no better than a kennel of mad dogs. For days the 
storm raged on with no symptom of abatement. At 
last, Metellus turned to the people and proposed in 
the assembly that Pompey should be recalled with 
his army to restore law and order. 

Ccesar, who was now prastor, warmly supported 
Metellus. To him, if to no one else, it was clear as 
the sun at noonday, that unless some better govern- 
ment could be provided than could be furnished by 
five hundred such gentlemen as the Roman senators, 
the State was drifting on to destruction. Resolutions 
to be submitted to the people were generally first 
drawn in writing, and were read from the Rostra. 
When Metellus produced his proposal, Cato, who was 
a tribune also, sprang to his side, ordered him to be 
silent, and snatched the scroll out of his hands. Me- 
tellus went on, speaking from memory : Cato's friends 
shut his mouth by force. The patricians present 
drew their swords and cleared the Forum ; and the 
Senate, in the exercise of another right to which they 
pretended, declared Csesar and Metellus degraded 
from their ofl&ces. Metellus, probably at Csesar's ad- 



Scene in the Assembly, 165 

vice, withdrew and went off to Asia, to describe what 
had passed to Pompey. Caesar remained, and, quietly- 
disregarding the Senate's sentence, continued to sit 
and hear cases as preetor. His court was forcibly 
closed. He yielded to violence and retired under pro- 
test, being escorted to the door of his house by an 
enormous multitude. There he dismissed his lictors 
and laid aside his official dress, that he might furnish 
no excuse for a charge against him of resisting the 
established authorities. The mob refused to be com- 
forted. They gathered day after day. They clus- 
tered about the pontifical palace. They cried to 
Caesar to place himself at their head, that they might 
tear down the senate house, and turn the caitiffs into 
the street. Cassar neither then nor ever lent him- 
self to popular excesses. He reminded the citizens 
that if others broke the law, they must themselves 
set an example of obeying it, and he bade them re- 
turn to their homes. 

Terrified at the state of the city, and penitent for 
their injustice to Caesar, the Senate hurriedly revoked 
their decree of deposition, sent a deputation to him 
to apologize, and invited him to resume his place 
among them. The extreme patrician section re- 
mained irreconcilable. CaBsar complied, but onl}^ to 
find himself denounced again with passionate perti- 
nacity as having been an accomplice of Catiline. 
Witnesses were produced, who sw^ore to having seen 
his signature to a treasonable bond. Curius, Cicero's 
spy, declared that Catiline himself had told him that 
Cpesar was one of the conspirators. Csesar treated 
the charge with indignant disdain. He appealed to 
Cicero's conscience, and Cicero was obliged to say 
that he had derived his earliest and most important 



166 Ccesar, 

information from Caesar himself. The most violent 
of his accusers were placed under arrest. The in- 
formers, after a near escape from being massacred by 
the crowd, were thrown into prison, and for the mo- 
ment the furious heats were able to cool. 

All eyes were now turned to Pompey. The war 
in Asia was over. Pompey, it was clear, must now 
return to receive the thanks of his countrymen ; and 
as he had triumphed in spite of the aristocracy, and 
as liis victories could neither be denied nor undone, 
the best hope of the Senate was to win him over 
from the people, and to prevent a union between him 
and Cissar". Through all the recent dissensions Cas- 
sar had thrown his weight on Pompey's side. He, 
with Cicero, had urged Pompey's appointment to 
his successive commands. When Cicero went over 
to the patricians, Caesar had stood by Pompey's 
officers against the fury of the Senate. Csesar had 
the people behind him, and Pompey the army. Un- 
less in some way an apple of discord could be thrown 
between them, the two favorites would overshadow 
the State, and the Senate's authority would be gone. 
Nothing could be done for the moment politically. 
Pompey owed his position to the democracy, and he 
was too great as yet to fear Csesar as a rival in the 
CommonAvealth. On the personal side there was 
better hope. Csesar was as much admired in the 
world of fashion as he was detested in the Curia. 
He had no taste for the brutal entertainments and 
more brutal vices of male patrician society. He pre- 
ferred the companionship of cultivated women, and 
the noble lords had the fresh provocation of finding 
their hated antagonist an object of adoration to their 
wives and daughters. Here, at any rate, scandal 



Roman Scandals. 167 

had the field to itself. Coesjir was accused of crimi- 
nal intimacy with many ladies of the highest rank, 
and Pompey was privately informed that his friend 
had taken advantage of liis absence to seduce his 
wife, Mucia. Pompey was Agamemnon ; Cassar had 
been ^gisthus ; and Pompey was so far persuaded 
that J\Iucia had been unfaithful to him, that he di- 
vorced her before his return. 

Charges of this kind have the peculiar advantage 
that even when disproved or shown to be manifestly 
absurd, they leave a stain behind them. Careless 
equally of probability and decency, the leaders of tho 
Senate sacrificed w^ithout scruple the reputation of 
their own relatives if only they could make Caesar 
odious. The name of Servilia has been mentioned 
alread}^ Servilia was the sister of Marcus Cato and 
the mother of Marcus Brutus. She was a woman of 
remarkable ability and character, and between her 
and Caesar there was undoubtedly a close acquaint- 
ance and a strono; mutual affection. The world dis- 
covered that she was Caesar's mistress, and that Bru- 
tus was his son. It might be enough to say that 
when Brutus Avas born Ceesar was scarcely fifteen 
years old, and that, if a later intimacy existed be- 
tween them, Brutus knew nothing of it or cared 
nothing for it. When he stabbed Ccesar at last it 
was not as a Hamlet or an Orestes, but as a patriot 
sacrificing his dearest friend to his country. The 
same doubt extends to the other supposed victims of 
Caesar's seductiveness. Names were mentioned in 
the following century, but no particulars were given. 
For the most part his alleged mistresses were the 
wives of men who remained closely attached to him 
notwithstanding. The report of his intrigue with 



168 Ccesar. 

Mucia answered its immediate purpose, in producing 
a temporary coldness on Pompey's part towards 
Csesar ; but Pompey must either have discovered the 
story to be false or else have condoned it, for soon 
afterwards he married Caesar's daughter. Two points 
may be remarked about these legends : first, that on 
no single occasion does C^sar appear to have been 
involved in any trouble or quarrel on account of his 
love affairs ; and secondly, that, with the exception 
of Brutus and of Cleopatra's C^sarion, whose claims 
to be Caesar's son were denied and disjDroved, there 
is no record of any illegitimate children as the result 
of these amours — a strange thing if Csesar was as 
liberal of his favors as popular scandal pretended. 
It would be idle to affect a belief that Csesar was par- 
ticularly virtuous. He was a man of the world, liv- 
ing in an age as corrupt as has been ever known. It 
would be equally idle to assume that all the ink blots 
thrown upon him were certainly deserved, because 
we find them in books which we call classical. Proof 
deserving to be called proof there is none ; and the 
only real evidence is the town talk of a society which 
feared and hated Csesar, and was glad of every pre- 
text to injure him when alive, or to discredit him 
after his death. Similar stories have been spread, 
are spread, and will be spread of every man who 
raises himself a few inches above the level of his fel- 
lows. We know how it is with our contemporaries. 
A single seed of fact will produce in a season or two 
a harvest of calumnies, and sensible men pass such 
things by, and pay no attention to them. With his- 
tor}^ we are less careful or less charitable. An accu- 
sation of immorality is accepted without examination 
when brought against eminent persons who can no 



Roman Scandals. 169 

longer defend themselves, and to raise a doubt of its 
ti'utli passes as a sign of a weak understanding. So 
let it be. It is certain that Caesar's contemporaries 
spread rumors of a variety of intrigues, in which they 
said that he was concerned. It is probable that some 
were well founded. It is possible that all were well 
founded. But it is no less indubitable that they rest 
on evidence which is not evidence at all, and that the 
most innocent intimacies would not have escaped mis- 
representation from the venomous tongues of Roman 
society. Caesar comes into court with a fairer char- 
acter than those whose virtues are thought to over- 
shadow him. Marriage, which under the ancient 
Romans was the most sacred of ties, had become the 
lightest and the loosest. Cicero divorced Terentir 
when she was old and ill-tempered, and married a 
young woman. Cato made over his Marcia, the 
mother of his children, to his friend Hortensius, and 
took her back as a wealthy widow when Hortensius 
died. Pompey put away his first wife at Sylla's bid- 
ding, and took a second who was already the wife of 
another man. Caesar, when little more than a boy, 
dared the Dictator's displeasure rather than conde- 
scend to a similar compliance. His worst enemies 
admitted that from the gluttony, the drunkenness, 
and the viler forms of sensuality, which were then so 
common, he was totally free. For the rest, it is cer- 
tain that no friend ever permanently quarrelled with 
him on any question of domestic injury ; and either 
there was- a general indifference on such subjects, 
which lightens the character of the sin, or popular 
scandals in old Rome were of no sounder material 
than we find them composed of in other countries 
and in other times. 



170 CcBsar, 

Turning from scandal to reality, we come now to a 
curious incident, which occasioned a fresh political 
convulsion, where Ca3sar appears, not as an actor in 
an affair of gallantry, but as a sufferer. 

Pompe}^ was still absent. Ciesar had resumed his 
duties as a prastor, and was living in the official house 
of the Pontifex Maximus, with his mother Aurelia 
and his wife Pompeia. The age was fertile of new 
religions. The worship of the Bona Dea, a foreign 
goddess of unknown origin, had recently been intro- 
duced into Rome, and an annual festival was held in 
her honor in the house of one or other of the princi- 
pal magistrates. The Vestal virgins officiated at the 
ceremonies, and women only were permitted to be 
present. This year the pontifical palace was selected 
for the occasion, and Csesar's wife Pompeia was to 
preside. 

The reader may remember a certain youth named 
Clodius, who had been with Lucullus in Asia, and had 
been a chief instigator of the mutiny in his army. 
He was Lucullus's brother-in-law, a member of the 
Claudian family, a patrician of the patricians, and 
connected by blood and marriage with the proudest 
members of the Senate. If Cicero is to be believed, 
he had graduated even while a boy in every form of 
vice, natural and unnatural. He was bold, clever, 
unprincipled, and unscrupulous, with a slender diminu- 
tive figure and a delicate woman's face. His name 
was Clodius Pulcher. Cicero played upon it and 
called him Pulchellus Puer, " the pretty boy." Be- 
tween this promising young man and Caesar's wife 
Pompeia there had sprung up an acquaintance, which 
Clodius was anxious to press to further extremes. 
Pompeia was difficult of access, her mother-in-law 



Clodius and Pompeia. 171 

Aiirelia keeping a strict watch over her; and Clodius, 
who was afraid of nothing, took advantage of the 
Bona Dea festival to m;ike his way into Ccesar's house 
dressed as a woman. Unfortunate!}^ for him, his dis- 
guise was detected. The insulted Vestals and the 
other ladies who were present flew upon him like the 
dogs of Actseon, tore his borrowed garments from him, 
and drove him into the street naked and wounded. 
The adventure became known. It was mentioned in 
the Senate, and the College of Priests was ordered to 
hold an inquiry. The College found that Clodius had 
committed sacrilege, and the regular course in such 
cases was to send the offender to trial. There was 
general unwillingness, however, to treat this matter 
seriously. Clodius had many friends in the house, 
and even Cicero, who was inclined at first to be severe, 
took on reflection a more lenient view. Clodius had 
a sister, a light lady who, weary of her conquests over 
her fashionable admirers, had tried her fascinations 
on the great orator. He had escaped complete subju- 
gation, but he had been flattered by the attention of 
the seductive beauty, and was ready to help her 
brother out of his difficulty. Clodius was not yet 
the dangerous desperado which he afterwards became ; 
and immorality, though seasoned w^ith impiety, might 
easily, it was thought, be made too much of. Ciesar 
himself did not press for punishment. As president 
of the college, he had acquiesced in their decision, 
and he divorced the unfortunate Pompeia; but he 
Cixpressed no opinion as to the extent of her criminal- 
ity, and he gave as his reason for separating from her, 
not that she was guilty, but that Caesar's wife must 
be above suspicion. 

Cato, however, insisted on a prosecution. Messala, 



172- Cmar, 

one of the consuls, was eqaall} peremptory. The 
hesitation was regarded by the stricter senators as a 
scandal to the order ; and in spite of the efforts of the 
second consul Piso, who was a friend of Clodius, it 
was decided that a bill for his indictment should be 
submitted to the assembly in the Forum. Clodius, it 
seems, was generally popular. No political question 
was raised by the proceedings against him ; for the 
present his offence was merely a personal one ; the 
wreck of Catiline's companions, the dissolute young 
aristocrats, the loose members of all ranks and classes, 
took up the cause, and gathered to support their fa- 
vorite, with young Curio, whom Cicero called in mock- 
ery Filiola, at their head. The approaches to the 
Forum were occupied by them. Piso, by whom the 
bill was introduced, himself advised the people to re- 
ject it. Cato flew to the Rostra and railed at the 
consul. Hortensius, the orator,* and many others 
spoke on the same side. It appeared at last that the 
people were divided, and would c'onsent to the bill 
being passed, if it was recommended to them by both 
the consuls. Again, therefore, the matter was referred 
to the Senate. One of the tribunes introduced Clo- 
dius, that he might speak for himself. Cicero had 
now altered his mind, and was in favor of the prose- 
cution. 

The "pretty youth " was alternately humble and 
violent, begging pardon, and then bursting into abuse 
of his brother-in-law, LucuUus, and more particularly 
of Cicero, whom he suspected of being the chief pro- 
moter of the proceedings against him. When it came 
to a division, the Senate voted by a majority of four 
hundred to fifteen that the con>ils must recommend 
the bill. Piso gave way, and the tribune also who 



Trial of ClodiuB. 173 

had been in Clodius's favor. The people were satis- 
fied, and a court of fifty-six juciges was appointed, 
before whom the trial was to take place. It petj^uary 
seemed that a conviction must necessarily ^- ^ ^^• 
follow, for there was no question about the facts, 
which were all admitted. There was some manoeu- 
vring, however, in the constitution of tlie court, which 
raised Cicero's suspicions. The judges, instead of 
being selected by the prastor, were chosen by lot, and 
the prisoner was allowed to challenge as many names 
as he pleased. The result was that in Cicero's opin- 
ion a more scandalous set of persons than those who 
were finally sworn were never collected round a gam- 
ing table — "disgraced senators, bankrupt knights, 
disreputable tribunes of the treasury, the few honest 
men that were left appearing to be ashamed of their 
company " — and Cicero considered that it would have 
been better if Hortensius, who was prosecuting, had 
withdrawn, and had left Clodius to be condemned by 
the general sense of respectable people, rather than 
risk the credit of Roman justice before so scandalous 
a tribunal.^ Still the case as it proceeded appeared 
so clear as to leave no hope of an acquittal. Clodius's 
friends were in despair, and were meditating an ap- 
peal to the mob. The judges, on the evening of the 
first day of the trial, as if they had already decided on 
a verdict of guilty, applied for a guard to protect them 
while they delivered it. The Senate complimented 
them in giving their consent. With a firm expecta- 
tion present in all men's minds the second morning 
dawned. Even in Rom.e, accustomed as it was to 

' "Si causam qnneris absolutionis, egestas judicnm fait et turpitude. 
. . . Non vidit (Hortensius) satius esse :11am in infamia relinqui ac aor- 
dibus quam infirmo judicio courmitti." — to Atticus, i. 16. 



174 Ccemr. 

mockeries of justice, public opinion was shocked when 
the confident anticipation was disappointed. Accord- 
ing to Cicero, Marcus Crassus, for reasons known to 
himself, had been interested in Clodius. During the 
night he sent for the judges one by one. He gave 
them money. What else he either gave or promised 
them, must continue veiled in Cicero's Latim^ Be- 
fore these influences the resolution of the judges 
melted away, and when the time came, thirty-one out 
of fifty-six high-born Roman peers and gentlemen de- 
clared Clodius innocent. 

The original cause was nothing. That a profligate 
young man should escape punishment for a licentious 
frolic was comparatively of no consequence ; but the 
trial acquired^ a notoriety of infamy which shook once 
more the already tottering constitution. 

" Why did you ask for a guard ? " old Catulus 
growled to the judges : " was it that the money you 
have received might not be taken from you? " 

''Such is the history of this affair," Cicero wrote to 
his friend Atticus. "■ We thought that the foundation 
of the Commonwealth had been surely reestablished 
in my consulship, all orders of good men being hap- 
pily united. You gave the praise to me and I to the 
gods ; and now unless some god looks favorably on 
us, all is lost in this single judgment. Thirty Ro- 
mans have been found to trample justice under foot 
for a bribe, and to declare an act not to have been 
committed, about which not only not a man, but not 
a beast of the field, can entertain the smallest doubt." 

Cato threatened the judges with impeachment; 

1 *' Jam rero, ohDii Eoni ! rem perditam ! etiam noctes certarum mulie- 
rum, atque adolescentulorum nobilium introductiones nonnullis judicibus 
pro mercedis cumulo fuerunt." — Ad Atticum, i. 16. 



Conquest of Liisitania. 175 

Cicero stormed in the Senate, rebuked the consul 
Piso, and lectured Clodius in a speech which he him- 
self admired exceedingly. The " pretty boy " in re- 
ply taunted Cicero with wishing to make himself a 
king. Cicero rejoined with asking Clodius about a 
man named " King," whose estates he had appropri- 
ated, and reminded him of a misadventure among the 
pirates, from which he had come off with nameless 
iejnominy. Neither antagonist very honor- 

B P 61 

ably distinguished himself in this encounter 
of wit. The Senate voted at last for an inquiry into 
the judges' conduct ; but an inquiry only added to 
Cicero's vexation, for his special triumph had been, 
as he conceived, the union of the Senate with the 
Equites ; and the Equites took the resolution as di- 
rected against themselves, and refused to be consoled.^ 
Caesar had been absent during these scenes. His 
term of office having expired, he had been dispatched 
as pro-praetor to Spain, where the ashes of the Ser- 
torian rebellion were still smouldering ; and he had 
started for his province while the question of Clodius's 
trial was still pending. Portugal and Gallicia were 
still unsubdued. Bands of robbers lay everywhere in 
the fastnesses of the mountain ranges. Caesar was 
already favorably known in Spain for his service as 
quaestor. He now completed the conquest of the Pe- 
ninsula. He put down the banditti. He reorganized 
the administration with the rapid skill which always 

1 " Nos hie in republic^, infirma, misera commiitabilique versamur. Credo 
enim te audisse, nostros equites paeiie a senatu esse disjunctos; qui priniuD* 
ilhid valde graviter tulerunt, pvomulgaturn ex senatus consulto fuisse, ut 
de iis, qui ob judicandum pecuniam accepisseiit qutereretur. Qua in re 
ficceinenda cum ego casu non affuissem, sensissemque id equestrem ordi- 
nem fv)rre moleste, neque aperte dicere; objurgavi senatum, ut mibi vsup 
r.um, summa cum auctoritate, et m causa non verecunda adniodum pavit 
ot copiosus f ui." — To Atticus, i. 17. 



176 Ocesar. 

so remarkably distinguished Lira. He sent home 
large sums of money to the treasury. His work was 
done quickly, but it was done completely. He no- 
where ]eft an unsound spot unprobed. He never 
contented himself with the superficial healing of a 
wound which would break out again when he was 
gone. What he began he finished, and left it in need 
of no further surgery. As his reward, he looked for 
a triumph and the consulship, one or both ; and the 
consulship he knew could not well be refused to him, 
unwelcome as it would be to the Senate. 

Pompey meanwhile was at last coming back. All 
lesser luminaries shone faint before the sun of Pom- 
pey, the subduer of the pirates, the conqueror of Asia, 
the glory of the Roman name. Even Cicero had 
feared that the fame of the saviour of his country 
might pale before the lustre of the great Pompey. 
"I used to be in alarm," he confessed with naive sim- 
plicity, " that six hundred years hence the merits of 
Sampsiceramus ^ might seem to have been more than 
mine." ^ But how would Pompey appear ? Would 
he come at the head of his army, like Sylla, the 
armed soldier of the democracy, to avenge the affront 
^apon his officers, to reform the State, to punish the 
Senate for the murder of the Catiline conspirators? 
Pompey had no such views, and no capacity for such 
ambitious operations. The ground had been pre- 
pared beforehand. The Mucia story had perhaps 
done its work, and the Senate and the great com- 
mander were willing to meet each other, at least witli 
outward friendliness. 



1 A nickname undei which Cicero often speaks of Pompey. 

2 "Solebat enira me pungere, ne Sampsicerami merita m patriam ad 
fccnos DC majora viderentur, quam nostra." — To Atticus, ii. 17. 



Pompey^s Return. 177 

His successes had been brilliant ; but they were due 
ratlier to his honesty than to his military genius. 
He had encountered no real resistance, and Cato had 
sneered at his exploits as victories over women. He 
bad put down the buccaneers, because he had refused 
to be bribed by them. He had overthrown Mithri- 
aates and had annexed Asia Minor and Syria to the 
Roman dominions. Lucullus could have done it as 
easily as his successor, if he could have turned his 
back upon temptations to increase his own fortune or 
gratify his own passions. The wealth of the East 
had lain at Pompey's feet, and he had not touched it. 
He had brought millions into the treasury. He re- 
turned, as he had gone out, himself moderately pro- 
vided for, and had added nothing to his private in- 
come. He understood, and practised strictly, the 
common rules of morality. He detested dishonesty 
and injustice. But he had no political insight ; and 
if he was ambitious, it was with the innocent vanity 
which desires, and is content with, admiration. In 
the time of the Scipios he would have lived in an at- 
mosphere of universal applause, and would have died 
in honor with an unblemished name. In the age of 
Clodius and Catiline he was the easy dupe of men of 
stronger intellect than his own, who played- upon his 
unsuspicious integrity. His delay in coming back 
had arisen chiefly from anxiety for his personal safetv. 
He was eager to be reconciled to the Senate, yet with- 
out deserting the people. While in Asia, he had re- 
assured Cicero that nothing was to be feared fiom 
him.i His hope was to find friends on all sides and 
in all parties, and he thought that he had deserved 
bheir friendship. 

A "Pompeius nobis amicissimus esse constat." — To Atticus, i. 12. 
12 



178 Coesar. 

Thus when Pompey landed at Brindisi his dreaded 
December legions were disbanded, and he proceeded to 
B. c. 62. |.j^g Capitol, with a train of captive princes 
as the symbols of his victories, and wagons loaded 
with treasare as an offering to his country. He was 
received as he advanced with the shouts of applaud- 
ing multitcides. He entered Rome in a galaxy of 
glory. A splendid column commemorated the cities 
which he bad taken, the twelve million human beings 
whom lie nad slain or subjected. His triumph was 
the most magnificent which the Roman citizens had 
ever witnessed, and by special vote he was permitted 
to wear his triumphal robe in the Senate as often and 
as long as might please him. The fireworks over, and 
with the aureole of glory about his brow, the great 
Pompey, like another Samson shorn of his locks, 
dropped into impotence and insignificance. In Feb- 
ruary 61, during the debate on the Clodius 
affair, he made his first speech in the Senate. 
Cicero, listening with malicious satisfaction, reported 
that " Pompey gave no pleasure to the wretched ; to 
the bad he seemed without back-bone ; he was not 
agreeable to the well-to-do ; the wise and good found 
him wanting in substance ; " ^ in short, the speech 
was a failure. Pompey applied for a second consul- 
ship. He was reminded that he had been consul 
eight years previously, and that the ten years' inter- 
val prescribed by Sylla, between the first and the sec- 
ond term, had not expired. He asked for lands for 
his soldiers, and for the ratification of his acts in Asia. 
Cato opposed the first request, as likely to lead to an- 
other Agrarian law. Lucullus, who was jealous of 

i " Noil jucunda miserls, inanis iraprobis, beatis non grata, bonis non 
gravis. Itaque frigebat." — Ti Atticm, i. 14. 



State of the Commonwealth. 179 

him, raised difficulties about the second, and thwarted 
him with continual delays. 

Pompey, being a poor speaker, thus found himself 
entirely helpless in the new field. Cicero, being re- 
lieved of fear from him as a rival, was wise enough 
to see that the collapse might not continue, and that 
his real qualities might again bring him to the front. 
The Clodius business had been a frightful scandal, 
and, smooth as the surface might seem, ugly cracks 
were opening all round the constitution. The dis- 
banded legions were impatient for their farms. The 
knights, who were already offended with the Senate 
for having thrown the disgrace of the Clodius trial 
upon them, had a fresh and more substantial griev- 
ance. The leaders of the order had contracted to 
farm the revenues in Asia. They found that the 
terms which they had offered were too high, and 
they claimed an abatement, which the Senate refused 
to allow. The Catiline conspiracy should have taught 
the necessity of a vigorous administration. Csecilius 
Metellus and Lucius Afranius, who had been chosen 
consuls for the year 60, were mere nothings. February i, 
Metellus was a vacant aristocrat,^ to be de- ^- ^- ^^' 
pended on for resisting popular demands, but without 
insight otherwise ; the second, Afranius, was a person 
" on whom only a philosopher could look without a 
groan ; " ^ and one year more might witness the con- 
sulship of Caesar. "I have not a friend," Cicero 
wrote, " to whom I can express my real thoughts. 
Things cannot long stand as they are. I have been 
vehement : I have put out all my strength in the 

1 " Metellus non homo, sed litus atque aer, et solitude mera."— To^i/i- 
.■!««, i. 18. 

2 "Consul est irapositus is nobis, quem nemo, prgeter nos phiJosophos, 
upicere sine suspiratu potest." — lb. 



180 Cmar, 

hope of mending matters and healing our disorders, 
but we will not endure the necessary medicine. The 
seat of justice has been publicly debauched. Resolu- 
tions are introduced against corruption, but no law 
can be carried. The knights are alienated. The Sen- 
ate has lost its authority. The concord of the orders 
is gone, and the pillars of the Commonwealth which 
I set up are overthrown. We have not a statesman, 
or the shadow of one. My friend Pompey, who might 
have done something, sits silent, admiring his fine 
clothes.^ Crassus will say nothing to make himself 
unpopular, and the rest are such idiots as to hope that 
although the constitution fall they will save their 
own fish-ponds.2 Cato, the best man that we have, is 
more honest than wise. For these three months he 
has been worrying the revenue farmers, and will not 
let the Senate satisfy them." ^ 

It was time for Cicero to look about him. The 
Catiline affair was not forgotten. He might still be 
called to answer for the executions, and he felt that 
he required some stronger support than an aristocracy 
who would learn nothing and seemed to be bent on 
destroying themselves. In letter after letter he pours 
out his contempt for his friends " of the fish-ponds," 
as he called them, who would neither mend 

B. 0. 60. 

their ways nor let others mend them. He 
would not desert them altogether, but he provided 
for contingencies. The tribunes had taken up the 
cause of Pompey 's legionaries. Agrarian laws were 

1 "Pompeius togulam illam pictam silentio tuetur suam." — Ih. The 
' p'nta togula" means the triumphal robe which Pompey was allowed to 
wear. 

2 " Ceteros jam nosti; qui ita sunt stulti, ut amissa republica piscinas suas 
fore salvas sperare videantur." — /6. 

8 lb. i. 18, abridged. 



Cicero and Pompey, 181 

threatened, and Pompey hinaself was most eager to 
see his soldiers satisfied. Cicero, who had hitherto 
opposed an Agrarian law with all his violence, dis- 
covered now that somoihing might be said in favor 
of draining " the sink of the city," ^ and repeopling 
Italy. Besides the public advantage, he felt that he 
would please the mortified but still popular Pompey ; 
and he lent his help in the Senate to improving a bill 
introduced by the tribunes, and endeavoring, though 
unsuccessfully, to push it through. 

So grateful was Pompey for Cicero's support, that 
he called him, in the Senate, " the saviour of the 
world." 2 Cicero was delighted with the phrase, and 
began to look to Pompey as a convenient ally. Ho 
thought that he could control and guide him and use 
his popularity for moderate measures. Nay, even in 
his despair of the aristocracy, he began to regard as 
not impossible a coalition with Caesar. " You cau- 
tion me about Pompey," he wrote to Atticus in the 
following July. " Do not suppose that I j„iy^ ^ ^ 
am attaching myself to him for my own ^• 
protection ; but the state of things is such, that if we 
two disagree the worst misfortunes may be feared. I 
make no concessions to him, I seek to make him bet- 
ter, and to cure him of his popular levity ; fj^id now 
he speaks more highly by far of my action^ than of 
his own. He has merely done well, he says, while I 
have saved the State. However this may affect me, 
it is certainly good for the Commonwealth. What if 
I can make Caesar better also, who is now coming on 

1 " Sentinam urbis," a worse word than he had blamed in Rullus three 
years before. — To Atticus, i. 19. 

2 " Pompeium adduxi in earn voluntatem, ut in Senatu non semel, se;i 
Baepe, muhisque verbis, hujus mihi salutem imperii atque orbis terraruni 
adjudicarit." — lb. 



182 Ccesar. 

with wind and tide ? Will that be so bad a thing? 
Even if I had no enemies, if I was supported as uni- 
versally as I ought to be, still a medicine which will 
cure the diseased parts of the State is better than 
the surgery which would amputate them. The 
knights have fallen oS from the Senate. The nol le 
lords think they are in heaven when they have bar- 
bel in their ponds that will eat out of their hands, 
and they leave the rest to fate. You cannot love 
Cato more than I love him, but he does harm with 
the best intentions. He speaks as if he was in 
Plato's Republic, instead of being in the dregs of 
that of Romulus. Most true that corrupt judges 
ought to be punished ! Cato proposed it, the Senate 
agreed ; but the knights have declared war upon the 
Senate. Most insolent of the revenue farmers to 
throw up their contract ! Cato resisted them, and 
carried his point ; but now when seditions break out, 
the knights will not lift a finger to repress them. 
Are we to hire mercenaries ? Are we to depend on 
our slaves and freedmen ? . . . . But enough." ^ 

Cicero might well despair of a Senate who had 
taken Cato to lead them. Pompey had come home 
in the best of dispositions. The Senate had offended 
Pompey,- and, more than that, had offended his le- 
gionaries. They had quarrelled with the knights. 
They had quarrelled with the moneyed interests. 
They now added an entirely gratuitous affront to 
Csesar. His Spanish administration was admitted by 
every one to have been admirable. He was coming 
to stand for the consulship, which could not be re- 
fused; but he asked for a triumph also, and as the 
rule stood there was a difficulty, for if he was to hav® 

1 To Atticus, ii, 1, abridged. 



Ccesar stands for the Consulship. 183 

a triumph, he must remain outside the walls till the 
day fixed for it, and if he was a candidate for office, 
he must be present in person on the day of October 
the election. The custom, though conven- ^-c- so. 
ient in itself, had been more than once set aside. 
Caesar applied to the Senate for a dispensation, which 
would enable him to bem, candidate in his absence ; 
and Cato, either from mere dislike of Caesar, or from 
a hope that he might prefer vanity to ambition, and 
that the dreaded consulship might be escaped, per- 
suaded the Senate to refuse. If this was the expec- 
tation, it was disappointed. Caesar dropped his tri- 
umph, came home, and went through the usual forms, 
and it at once appeared that his election was certain, 
and that every powerful influence in the State was 
combined in his favor. From Pompey he met the 
warmest reception. The Mucia bubble had burst. 
Pompey saw in Caesar only the friend who had stood 
by him in every step of his later career, and had 
braved the fury of the Senate at the side of his offi- 
cer Metellus Nepos. Equally certain it was, that 
Caesar, as a soldier, would interest himself for Pom- 
pey's legionaries, and that they could be mutually 
useful to each other. Caesar had the people at his 
back, and Pompey had the army. The third great 
power in Rome was that of the capitalists, and about 
the attitude of these there was at first some uncer- 
tainty. Crassus, who was the impersonation of them, 
was a friend of Caesar, but had been on bad terms 
with Pompey. Caesar, however, contrived to recon- 
cile them ; and thus all parties outside the patrician 
circle were combined for a common purpose. Could 
Cicero have taken his place frankly at their side, as 
his better knowledge told him to do, the inevitable 



184 Ccesar, 

revolution miglit have been accomplished without 
bloodshed, and the course of history have been dif- 
ferent. Cassar wished it. But it was not so to be. 
Cicero perhaps found that he would have to be con- 
tent with a humbler position than he had anticipated, 
that in such a combination he would have to follow 
rather than to lead. He was tempted. He saw a 
promise of peace, safety, influence, if not absolute, 
November 1^^ Considerable. But he could not bring 
B. c. 60. himself to sacrifice the proud position which 
he had won for himself in his consulship, as leader of 
the Conservatives; and he still hoped to reign in the 
Senate, while using the protection of the popular 
chiefs as a shelter in time of storms. 

Caesar was chosen consul without opposition. His 
party was so powerful that it seemed at one time as 
if he could name his colleague, but the Senate suc- 
ceeded with desperate efforts in securing the second 
place. They subscribed money profusely, the im- 
maculate Cato prominent among them. The ma- 
chinery of corruption was well in order. The great 
nobles commanded the votes -of their clientele^ and 
they succeeded in giving Csesar the same companion 
who had accompanied him through the SBdileship and 
the prsetorship, Marcus Bibulus, a dull, obstinate 
fool, who could be relied on, if for nothing else, yet 
for dogged resistance to every step which the Senate 
disapproved. For the moment they appeared to have 
thought that with Bibulus's help they might defy 
Ca3sar, and reduce his office to a nullity. Immedi- 
ately on the election of the consuls, it was usual to 
determine the provinces to which they were to be 
appointed when their consulate should expire. The 
regulation lay with the Senate, and, either in mere 



CcBsars Consulship. 185 

spleen or to prevent Caesar from having the command 
of an army, they allotted him the department of the 
" Woods and Forests." ^ A very few weeks had to 
pass before they discovered that they had to do with 
a man who was not to be turned aside so slightingly. 
Hitherto Csesar had been feared and hated, but hia 
powers were rather suspected than under- 

B C 60 

stood. As the nephew of Marius and the 
son-in-law of Cinna, he was the natural chief of the 
part}" w^iich had once governed Rome, and had been 
trampled under the hoof of Sylla. He had shown 
on many occasions that he had inherited his uncle's 
principles, and could be daring and skilful in assert- 
ing them. But he had held carefully within the con- 
stitutional lines; he had kept himself clear of con- 
spiracies ; he had never, like the Gracchi, put himself 
forward as a tribune or attempted the part of a pop- 
ular agitator. When he had exerted himself in the 
political world of Rome, it had been to maintain the 
law agahist violence, to resist and punish encroach- 
ments of arbitrary power, or to rescue the Empire 
from being gambled away by incapable or profligate 
aristocrats. Thus he had gathered foi- himself the 
animosity of the fashionable upper classes and the 
confidence of the body of the people. But what he 
would do in power, or what it was in him to do, was 
as yet merely conjectural. 

At all events, after an interval of a generation, 
there was again a popular consul, and on every side 
there was a harvest of iniquities ready for the sickle. 
Sixty years had passed since the death of the younger 
Gracchus ; revolution after revolution had swept over 
the Common Vv^ealth, and Italy was still as Tiberius 
1 SUi'(£ callestjue — to which " woods and forests " is a near equivalent- 



186 . Ccesar. 

Gracclius had found it. The Gracchan colonists had 
disappeared. The Syllan mihtary proprietors had 
disappeared — one by one they had fallen to beg- 
gary, and had sold their holdings, and again the coun- 
try was parcelled into enormous estates cultivated by 
slave gangs.. The Italians had been emancipated, but 
the process had gone no further. The libertini, the 
Bons of the freedmen, still waited for equality of 
rights. The rich and prosperous provinces beyond 
the Po remained unenfranchised, while the value of 
the franchise itself -p^as daily diminishing as the Sen- 
ate resumed its control over the initiative of legisla- 
tion. Each year the elections became more corrupt. 
The Clodius judgment had been the most frightful 
instance which had yet occurred of the de- 
pravity of the law courts ; while, by Cicero's 
own admission, not a single measure could pass be- 
yond discussion into act which threatened the inter- 
ests of the oligarchy. The consulship of Csesar was 
looked to with hope from the respectable part of the 
citizens, with alarm from the high-born delinquents 
as a period of genuine reform. The new consuls 
were to enter office on the 1st of January. In De- 
cember it was known that an Agrarian law would be 
at onco proposed under plea of providing for Pom- 
pey's troops ; and Cicero had to decide whether he 
would act in earnest in the spirit which he had be- 
gun to show when the tribunes' bill was under dis- 
cussion, or would fall back upon resistance with the 
rest of his party, or evade the difficult dilemma by 
going on foreign service, or else would simply ab- 
sent himself from Rome while the struggle was going 
on. "I may either resist," he said, " and there will 
be an honorable fight ; or I may do nothing, and 



Uneasiness of Cicero^ 187 

withdraw into the country, which will be honorable 
also ; or I may give active help, which I am told 
Caesar expects of me. His friend, Cornelias Balbus, 
who was with me lately, affirms that Caesar will be 
guided in everything by my advice and Pompey's, 
and will use his endeavor to bring Pompey and Cras- 
sus together. Such a course has its advantages ; it 
will draw me closely to Pompey and, if I please, to 
C^sar. I shall have no more to fear from my en- 
emies. I shall be at peace with the people. I can 
look to quiet in my old age. But the lines still move 
me which conclude the third book (of my Poem on 
my consulship) : ' Hold to the track on which thou 
enteredst in thy early youth, which thou pursuedst as 
consul so valorously and bravely. Increase thy fame, 
and seek the praise of the good.' " ^ 

It had been proposed to send Cicero on a mission 
to Egypt. " I should like well, and I have long 
wished," he said, " to see Alexandria and the rest of 
that country. They have had enough of me here at 
present, and they may wish for me when I am away. 
But to go now, and to go on commission from Caesar 
and Pompey ! 

I should blush 
To face the men and long-robed dames of Troy .2 

What will our Optimates say, if we have any Opti- 
mates left ? Polydamas will throw in my teeth that 
I have been bribed by the Opposition — I mean Cato, 
who is one out of a hundred thousand to me. What 
will history say of me six hundred years hence ? I 

1 "Interea cursus, quos prima a parte juventae, 
Quosque ideo consul virtute animoque petisti, 
Hos retine atque auge famam laudesque bonorum." 

To Atticus, i\. 8. 

* laad, vi. 442. Lord Derby's translation. 



t88 * Ccesar, 

am more afraid of that than of the chatter of my con- 
temporaries." 1 

So Cicero meditated, thinking as usual of himself 
first and of his duty afterwards — the fatalest of all 
courses then and always. 

1 To AUic^ ii. g. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

The consulship of Ca3sar ^as the last chance fcr 
the Roman aristocracy. He -^ras not a rev- 
olutionist. Revolutions are the last des- 
perate remedy when all else has failed. They may 
create as many evils as they cure, and wise men al- 
ways hate them. But if revolution was to be es- 
caped, reform was inevitable, and it was for the 
Senate to choose between the alternatives. Could 
the noble lords have known, then, in that their day, 
the things that belonged to their peace — could they 
have forgotten their fish-ponds and their game pre- 
serves, and have remembered that, as the rulers of 
the civilized world, they had duties which the eternal 
order of nature would exact at their hands, the shaken 
constitution might again have regained its stability, 
and the forms and even the reality of the Republic 
might have continued for another century. It was 
not to be. Had the Senate been capable of using the 
opportunity, they would long before have undertaken 
a reformation for themselves. Even had their eyes 
been opened, there were disintegrating forces at work 
which the highest political wisdom could do no more 
than arrest ; and little good is really effected by pro- 
longing artificially the lives of either constitutions or 
individuals beyond their natural period. From the 
time when Rome became an Empire, mistress of 
provinces to which she was unable to extend her own 
liberties, the days of her self-government wex'e num- 



190 Omar, 

bered. A homogeneous and vigorous people may 
manage their own affairs under a popular constitu- 
tion so long as their personal characters remain un- 
degenerate. Parliaments and Senates may represent 
the general will of the community, and may pass 
laws and administer them as public sentiment ap- 
proves. But such bodies can preside successfully 
only among subjects who are directly represented in 
them. They are too ignorant, too selfish, too divided, 
to govern others ; and Imperial aspirations draw 
after them, by obvious necessity, an Imperial rule. 
Csesar may have known this in his heart, yet the 
most far-seeing statesman will not so trust his own 
misgivings as to refuse to hope for the regeneration 
of the institutions into which he is born. He will 
determine that justice shall be done. Justice is the 
essence of government, and without justice all forms, 
democratic or monarchic, are tyrannies alike. But 
he will work with the existing methods till the in- 
adequacy of them has been proved beyond dispute. 
Constitutions are never overthrown till they have 
pronounced sentence on themselves. 

Caesar accordingly commenced office by an en- 
deavor to conciliate. The army and the moneyed 
interests, represented by Pompey and Crassus, were 
already with him ; and he used his endeavors, as has 
been seen, to gain Cicero, who might bring with him 
such part of the landed aristocracy as were not hope- 
lessly incorrigible. With Cicero he but partially 
succeeded. The great orator solved the problem of 
the situation by going away into the country and 
remaining there for the greater part of the year, and 
Cffisar had to do without an assistance which, in the 
speaking department, would have been invaluable t<l 



An Agrarian Law. 191 

him. His first step was to order the publication of 
the " Acta Diiirna," a daily journal of the doings of 
the Senate. The light of day being thrown in upon 
that august body might prevent honorable members 
from laying hands on each other as they had lately 
done, and might enable the people to know what was 
going on among them — on a better authority than 
rumor. He then introduced his Agrarian law, the 
rough, draft of which had been already discussed, and 
had been supported by Cicero in the preceding year. 
Had he meant to be defiant, like the Gracchi, he 
might have offered it at once to the people. Instead 
of doing so, he laid it before the Senate, inviting 
them to amend his suggestions, and promising any 
reasonable concessions if they would cooperate. No 
wrong was to be done to any existing occupiers. No 
right of property was to be violated which was any 
real right at all. Large tracts in Campania which 
belonged to the State were now held on the usual 
easy terms by great landed patricians. These Caesar 
proposed to buy out, and to settle on the ground 
twenty thousand of Pompey's veterans. There was 
money enough and to spare in the treasury, which 
they had themselves brought home. Out of the large 
funds which would still remain, land might be pur- 
chased in other parts of Italy for the rest, and for a 
tew thousand of the unemployed population which 
was crowded into Rome. The measure in itself was 
admitted to be a moderate one. Every pains had 
been taken to spare the interests and to avoid hurt- 
ing the susceptibilities of the aristocrats. But, as 
Cicero said, the very name of an Agrarian law was 
intolerable to them. It meant in the end spoliation 
and division of property, and the first step would 



192 Ccesar. 

bring others after it. The public lands they had 
shared conveniently among themselves from imme- 
morial time. The public treasure -was their treas- 
ure, to be laid out as they might think proper. Cato 
headed the opposition. He stormed for an entire 
day, and was so violent that Caesar threatened him 
with arrest. The Senate groaned and foamed ; no 
progress was made or was likely to be made ; and 
Cffisar, as much in earnest as they were, had to tell 
them that if they would not help him, he must ap- 
peal to the assembly. " I invited you to revise the 
law," he said ; " I was willing that if any clause dis- 
pleased you it should be expunged. You will not 
touch it. Vv^ell then, the people must decide." 

The Senate had made up their minds to fight the 
battle. If Csesar went to the assembly, Bibulus, their 
second consul, might stop the proceedings. If this 
seemed too extreme a step, custom provided other im- 
pediments to which recom^se might be had. Bibulus 
might survey the heavens, watch the birds, or the 
clouds, or the direction of the wind, and declare the 
aspects unfavorable ; or he might proclaim day after 
day to be holy, and on holy days no legislation was 
permitted. Should these religious cobwebs be brushed 
away, the Senate had provided a further resource in 
three of the tribunes whom they had bribed. Thus 
they held themselves secure, and dared Csesar to do 
his worst. Caesar on his side was equally determined. 
The assembly was convoked. The Forum was choked 
to overflowing. Csesar and Pompey stood on the 
steps of the Temple of Castor, and Bibulus and his 
tribunes were at hand ready with their interpellations* 
Such passions had not been roused in Rome since the 
days of Ciivia and Octavius, and many a young lord 



Scene in the Forum, 193 

was doubtless hoping that the day would not close 
without another lesson to ambitious demagogues and 
howling mobs. In their eyes the one reform which 
Rome needed was another Sylla. 

Caesar read his law from the tablet on which it was 
inscribed; and, still courteous to his antagonist, he" 
turned to Bibulus and asked him if he had any fault 
to find. Bibulus said sullenly that he wanted no 
1 evolutions, and that while he was consul there should 
be none. The people hissed ; and he then added in 
a rage, " You shall not have your law this year though 
every man of you demand it." Caesar answered 
nothing, but Pompey and Crassus stood forward. 
They were not officials, but they were real forces. 
Pompey was the idol of every soldier in the State, 
and at Csesar's invitation he addressed the assembly. 
He spoke for his veterans. He spoke for the poor citi- 
zens. He said that he approved the law to the last 
letter of it. 

" Will you then," asked Caesar, " support the law 
if it be illegally opposed ? " " Since," replied Pom- 
pey, " you consul, and you my fellow citizens, ask aid 
of me, a poor individual without office and without 
authority, who nevertheless has done some service to 
the State, I say that I will bear the shield, if others 
draw the sword." Applause rang out from a hun- 
dred thousand throats. Crassus followed to the same 
purpose, and was received with the same wild delight. 
A few senators, who retained their senses, saw the 
uselessness of the opposition, and retired. Bibulus 
was of duller and tougher metal. As the vote was 
about to be taken, he and his tribunes rushed to the 
rostra. The tribunes pronounced their veto. Bibu« 
\sm said that he had consulted the sky ; the gods for- 

13 



194 Cmsar. 

bade further action being taken that day, and he de- 
clared the assembly dissolved. Nay, as if a man like 
Cgesar could be stopped by a shadow, he proposed to 
sanctify the whole remainder of the year, that no 
further business might be transacted in it. Yells 
'drowned his voice. The mob rushed upon the steps ; 
Bibulus was thrown down, and the rods of the licLors 
were broken ; the tribunes who had betrayed their 
order were beaten. Cato held his ground^ and 
stormed at Csesar, till he was led off by the police, 
raving and gesticulating. The law was then passed, 
and a resolution besides, that every senator should 
take an oath to obey it. 

So in ignominy the Senate's resistance collapsed : 
the Csesar whom they had thought to put off with 
their "woods and forests," had proved stronger than 
the whole of them ; and, prostrate at the first round 
of the battle, they did not attempt another. They 
met the following morning. Bibulus told his story, 
and appealed for support. Had the Senate complied, 
they would probably have ceased to exist. The oath 
was unpalatable, but they made the best of it. Me- 
tullus Celer, Cato, and Favonius, a senator whom men 
called Cato's ape, struggled against their fate, but 
*' swearing they would ne'er consent, consented." 
The unwelcome formula was swallowed by the whole 
of them ; and Bibulus, who had done his part and 
had been beaten and kicked and trampled upon, and 
now found his employers afraid to stand by him, went 
off sulkily to his house, shut himself up there, and 
refused to act as consul further during the remainder, 
of the year. 

There was no further active opposition. A com- 
mission was appointed b}^ Csesar to carry out the Land 



The '' Leges Julicer 195 

act, composed of twenty of the best men that could 
be found, one of tliera being Atius Balbus, the hus- 
band of Caesar's only sister, and grandfather of a 
little child now three years old, who was known after- 
wards to the world as Augustus. Cicero was offered 
a place, but declined. The land question having been 
disposed of, Caesar then proceeded with the remain- 
ing measures by which his consulship was immortal- 
ized. He had redeemed his promise to Pompey by 
providing for his soldiers. He gratified Crassus by 
giving the desired relief to the farmers of the taxes. 
He confirmed Pompey's arrangements for the govern- 
ment of Asia, which the Senate had left in suspense. 
The Senate was now itself suspended. The consul 
acted directly with the assembly, without obstruction, 
and without remonstrance, Bibulus only from time to 
time sending out monotonous admonitions from within 
doors that the season was consecrated, and that Cae- 
sar's acts had no validity. Still more remarka^3ly, 
Hnd as the distinguishing feature of his term of office, 
Caesar carried, with the help of the people, the bodj 
of admirable laws which are known to jurists as the 
" Leges Juli»," and mark an epoch in Roman history. 
They were laws as unwelcome to the aristocracy as 
they were essential to the continued existence of the 
Roman State, laws which had been talked of in the 
Senate, but which could ne r t^r pass through the pre- 
liminary stage of resolutioiu, and were now enacted 
over the Senate's head by the will of Caesar and the 
sovereign power of the nation. A mere outline can 
alone be attempted here. There was a law declaring 
the inviolability of the persons of magistrates during 
their term of authority, r€;flecting back on the mur- 
der of Saturninus, and touching by implication the 



196 Ccesar. 

killing of Leiitulus and his companions. There wag 
a law for the punishment of adultery, most disinter- 
estedly singular if the popular accounts of Caesar's 
habits had any grain of truth in them. There were 
laws for the protection of the subject from violence, 
public or private ; and laws disabling persons who 
had laid hands illegally on Roman citizens from hold- 
ing office in the Commonwealth. There was a law, 
intended at last to be effective, to deal with judges 
who allowed themselves to be bribed. There were 
laws against defrauders of the revenue ; laws against 
debasing the coin ; laws against sacrilege ; laws 
against corrupt State contracts ; laws against bribery 
at elections. Finally, there was a law, carefully 
framed. Be repetundis, to exact retribution from pro- 
consuls, or pro-prsetors of the type of Verres who had 
plundered the provinces. All governors were re- 
quired, on relinquishing office, to make a double re- 
turn' of their accounts, one to remain for inspection 
among the archives of the province, and one to be 
sent to Rome ; and where peculation or injustice 
could be proved, the offender's estate was made an- 
swerable to the last sesterce.^ 

Such laws were words only without the will to ex- 
ecute them ; but they affirmed the principles on which 
Roman or any other society could alone continue. It 
was for the officials of the constitution to adopt them, 
and save themselves and the Republic, or to ignore 
them as they had ignored the laws which already ex- 
isted, and see it perish as it deserved. All that, man 
could do foi the preservation of his country from rev- 
olution Caesar had accomplished. Sylla had reestab' 

1 See a list of the Leges Julise in the 48th Book of the Corpus Jurii 
Civilis. 



The '' Leges Julicer 197 

lished the rule of the aristocracy, and it had failed 
grossly and disgracefully. Cinna and Marius had 
tried democracy, and that had failed. Csesar was 
trying what law would do, and the result remained 
to be seen. BiVmlus, as each measure was passed, 
croaked that it was null and void. The leaders of 
the Senate threatened between their teeth that all 
should be undone when Caesar's term was over. Cato, 
when he mentioned the " Leges Julise," spoke of 
them as enactments, but refused them their author's 
name. But the excellence of these laws was so 
clearly recognized that they survived the irregularity 
of their introduction ; and the '^ Lex de Repetundis" 
especially remained a terror to evil-doers, with a prom- 
ise of better days to the miserable and pillaged sub- 
jects of the Roman Empire. 

So the year of Caesar's consulship passed away. 
What was to happen when it had expired ? The 
Senate had provided " the woods and forests " for 
him. But the Senate's provision in such a matter 
could not be expected to hold. He asked for noth- 
ing, but he was known to desire an opportunity of 
distinguished service. Csesar was now forty-three. 
His life was ebbing away, and, with the exception of 
his two years in Spain, it had been spent in strug- 
gling with the base elements of Roman faction. 
Great men will bear such sordid work when it is laid 
on them, but they loathe it notwithstanding, and for 
the present there was nothing more to be done. A 
new point of departure had been taken. Principles 
Dad been laid down for the Senate and people to act 
on, if they could and would. Csesar could only wish 
tor a long absence in some new sphere of usefulness, 
where he could achieve something really great which 
his country would remember. 



198 Ccemr. 

And on one side only was sucli a sphere open to 
him. The East was Roman to the Euphrates. No 
second Mithridates could loosen the grasp with which 
the legions now held the civilized parts of Asia. Par- 
thians might disturb the frontier, but could not seri- 
ously threaten the Eastern dominions ; and no advan- 
tage was promised by following on the steps of 
Alexander, and annexing countries too poor to bear 
the cost of their maintenance. To the west it was 
different. Beyond the Alps there was still a territory 
of unknown extent, stretching away to the undefined 
ocean, a territory peopled with warlike races, some 
of whom in ages long past had swept over Italy and 
taken Rome, and had left their descendants and their 
name in the northern province, which was now called 
Cisalpine Gaul. With these races the Romans had 
as yet no clear relations, and from them alone could 
any serious danger threaten the State. The Gauls 
had for some centuries ceased their wanderings, had 
settled down in fixed localities. They had built towns 
and bridges ; they had cultivated the soil, and had 
become wealthy and partly civilized. With the tribes 
adjoining Provence the Romans had alliances more 
or less precarious, and had established a kind of pro- 
tectorate over them. But even here the inhabitants 
were uneasy for their independence, and troubles were 
continually arising with them ; while into these dis- 
tricts and into the rest of Gaul a fresh and stormy 
element was now being introduced. In earlier times 
the Gauls had been stronger than the Germans, and 
not only could they protect their own frontier, but 
Uiey had formed settlements beyond the Rhine. 
These relations were being changed. The Gauls, as 
they grew in wealth, declined in vigor. The Ger- 



State of Gaul 199 

mans, still roving and migratory, were throwing cov- 
etous eyes out of their forests on the fields and vine- 
yards of their neighbors, and enormous numbers of 
them were crossing the Rhine and Danube, looking 
for new homes. How feeble a barrier either the Alps, 
or the Gauls themselves, might prove against such 
invaders, had been but too recently experienced. 
Men who were of middle age at the time of Ccesar's 
consulship, could still remember the terrors which had 
been caused by the invasion of the Cimbri and Teu- 
tons. Marius had saved Italy then from destruction, 
as it were, by the hair of its head. The annihilation 
of those hordes had given Rome a passing respite. 
But fresh generations had grown up. Fresh multi- 
tudes were streaming out of the North, Germans in 
hundreds of thousands were again passing the Upper 
Rhine, rooting themselves in Burgundy, and coming 
in collision with tribes which Rome protected. There 
were uneasy movements among the Gauls themselves, 
whole nations of them breaking up from their homes 
and again adrift upon the world. Gaul and Germany 
were like a volcano giving signs of approaching erup- 
tion ; and, at any moment and hardly with warning, 
another lava stream might be pouring down into 
Venetia and Lombardy. 

To deal with this danger was the work marked out 
for Csesar. It is the fashion to say that he sought a 
military command that he might have an army be- 
hind him to overthrow the constitution. If this was 
his object, ambition never chose a more dangerous 
or less promising route for himself. Men of genius 
who accomplish great things in this world do not 
trouble themselves with remote and visionary aims. 
They encounter emergencies as the}^ rise, and leave 



200 OcBsar, 

the future to shape itself as it may. It would seem 
that at first the defence of Italy was .all that was 
thought of. " The woods and forests " were set aside, 
and Ccesar, by a vote of the people, was given the 
command of Cisalpine Gaul and Illyria for five years ; 
but either he himself desired, or especial circum- 
stances which were taking place beyond the mount- 
ains recommended, that a wider scope should be al- 
lowed him. The Senate, finding that the people 
would act without them if they hesitated, gave him 
in addition Gallia Comata, the land of the Gauls with 
the long hair, the governorship of the Roman prov- 
ince beyond the Alps, with untrammelled liberty to 
act as he might think good, throughout the country 
which is now known as France and Switzerland and 
the Rhine provinces of Germany. 

He was to start early in the approaching year. It 
was necessary before he went to make some provision 
for the quiet government of the capital. The alliance 
with Pompey and Crassus gave temporary security. 
Pompey had less stability of character than could 
have been wished, but he became attached to Css- 
sar's daughter Julia; and a fresh link of marriage 
was formed to hold them together. Csesar himself 
married Calpurnia, the daughter of Calpurnius Piso. 
The Senate having temporarily abdicated, he was 
able to guide the elections ; and Piso, and Pompey's 
friend Gabinius, who had obtained the command of 
the pirate war for him, were chosen consuls for the 
year 58. Neither of them, if we can believe a tithe 
of Cicero's invective, was good for much ; but they 
were staunch partisans and were to be relied on to re- 
sist any efforts which might be made to repeal the 
'' Leges Julise." These matters being arranged, and 



Cicero's Orievan.as. 201 

his own term having expired, Caesar withdrew, ac- 
cording to custom, to the suburbs beyond the walls to 
collect troops and prepare for his departure. Strange 
things, however, had yet to happen before he was 
gone. 

It is easy to conceive how the Senate felt at these 
transactions, how ill they bore to find them- 
selves superseded, and the State managed 
over their heads. Fashionable society was equally 
furious, and the three allies went by the name of 
Dynasts, or "Reges Superbi." After resistance had 
been abandoned, Cicero came back to Rome to make 
cynical remarks from which all parties suffered equally. 
His special grievance was the want of consideration 
which he conceived to have been shown for himself. 
He mocked at the Senate; he mocked at Bibulus, 
whom he particularly abominated ; he mocked at 
Pompey and the Agrarian law. Mockery turned to 
indignation when he thought of the ingratitude of the 
Senate, and his chief consolation in their discomfiture 
was that it had fallen on them through the neglect of 
their most distinguished member. " I could have 
saved them, if they would have let me," he said. " I 
could save them still, if I were to try ; but I will go 
study philosophy in my own family." ^ " Freedom 
is gone," he wrote to Atticus ; " and if we are to be 
worse enslaved, we shall bear it. Our lives and 
properties are more to us than lil>erty. We sigh, 
and we do not even remonstrate." ^ 

Cato, in the desperation of passion, called Pompey 

1 To Atticus, ii. 16. 

2 " Tenemur undique, neque jam, quo minus serviamus, recusamus, sed 
mortem et ejectionem quasi majora timemus quae multo sunt minora. At- 
que hie status, qui una voce omnium gemitur neque verbo cujusdam sub' 
kvatur."— lb. ii. 18. 



202 Coesar. 

a Dictator in the assembly, and barely escaped being 
killed for his pains.^ The patricians revenged them- 
selves in private by savage speeches and plots and 
purposes. Fashionable society gathered in the thea- 
tres, and hissed the popular leaders. Lines were in- 
troduced into the plays reflecting on Pompey, and 
were encored a thousand times. Bibulus from his 
closet continued to issue venomous placards, report- 
ing scandals about Csesar's life, and now for the first 
time bringing up the story of Nicomedes. The 
streets were impassable where these papers were 
pasted up, from the crowds of loungers which were 
gathered to read them, and Bibulus for the moment 
was the hero of patrician saloons. Some malicious 
comfort Cicero gathered out of these manifestations 
of feeling. He had no belief in the noble lords, and 
small expectations from them. Bibulus was, on the 
whole, a fit representative for the gentry of the fish- 
ponds. But the Dynasts were at least heartily de- 
tested in quarters which had once been powerful, and 
might be powerful again ; and he flattered himself, 
though he affected to regret it, that the animosity 
against them was spreading. To all parties there is 
attached a draggled trail of disreputables, who hold 
♦•hemselves entitled to benefits when ' their side is in 
power, and are angry when they are passed over. 

-" The State," Cicero wrote in the autumn of 59 to 
Atticus, " is in a worse condition than when you left 
us ; then we thought that we had fallen under a 
power which pleased the people, and which, though 
abhorrent to the good, yet was not totally destructive 

1 " In concionem ascendit et Pompeium privatus Dictatorem appellavit 
P'-opius nihil est factum quam ut occideretur." — Cicero, Ad Quinium 
Frairem, i. 2. 



Roman Factions. 203 

to them. Now all hate it equally, and we are in 
terror as to where the exasperation may break out. 
We had experienced the ill-temper and irritation of 
those who in their anger with Cato had brought ruin 
on us ; but the poison worked so slowl;y that it 
seemed we might die without pain. — I hoped, as ». 
often told you, that the wheel of the constitution was 
so turning that we should scarcely hear a sound or 
see any visible track; and so it would have been, 
could men have waited for the tempest to pass over 
them. But the secret sighs turned to groans, and 
the groans to universal clamor ; and thus our friend 
Pompey, who so lately swam in glory, and never 
heard an evil word of himself, is broken-hearted, and 
knows not whither to turn. A precipice is before him, 
and to retreat is dangerous. The good are against 
him — the bad gire not his friends. I could scarce 
help weeping the other day when I heard him com- 
plaining in the Forum of the publications of Ribulus. 
He who but a short time since bore himself so 
proudly there, with the people in raptures with him, 
and with the world on his side, was now so humble 
and abject as to disgust even himself, not to say his 
hearers. Crassus enjoyed the scene, but no one else. 
Pompey had fallen down out of the stars — not by a 
gradual descent, but in a single plunge ; and as 
Apelles if he had seen his Venus, or Protogenes his 
lalysus, all daubed with mud, would have been vexed 
and annoyed, so was I grieved to the very heart to see 
one whom I had painted out in the choicest colors of 
art thus suddenly defaced.^ — Pompey is sick with 

1 To Attictis, ii. 21. In this comparison Cicero betraj's his naive con- 
viction that Pompey was indebted to him and to his praises for his reputa- 
iion. Here, as always, Cicero was himself the centre round which all else 
revolved :>t ought to revolve. 



204 CcBsar. 

irritation at the placards of Bibulus. I am sorry 
about them. They give such excessive annoyance to 
a man whom I have always liked ; and Pompey is so 
prompt with his sword, and so unaccustomed to in- 
sult, that I fear what he may do. What the future 
may have in store for Bibulus I know not. At pres- 
ent he is the admired of all." ^ 

" Sampsiceramus," Cicero wrote a few days later, 
" is greatly penitent. He would gladly be restored 
to the eminence from which he has fallen. Some- 
times he imparts his griefs to me, and asks me what 
he should do, which I cannot tell him." ^ 

Unfortunate Cicero, who knew what was right, but 
was too proud to do it ! Unfortunate Pompey, who 
still did what was right, but was too sensitive to bear 
the reproach of it, who would so gladly not leave his 
duty unperformed, and yet keep the " sweet voices " 
whose applause had grown so delicious to him I 
Bibulus was in no danger. Pompey was too good- 
natured to hurt him ; and C^sar let fools say what 
they pleased, as long as they were fools without 
teeth, who would bark but could not bite. ' The risk 
was to Cicero himself, little as he seemed to be aware 
of it. Csesar was to be long absent from Rome, and 
he knew that as soon as he was engaged in Gaul the 
extreme oligarchic faction would make an effort to 
set aside his Land commission and undo his legisla- 
tion. When he had a clear purpose in view, and 
was satisfied that it was a good purpose, he was 
iiever scrupulous about his instruments. It was said 
of him that, when he wanted any work done, he 
chose the persons best able to do it, let their general 
sharacter be what it might. The rank and file of 

1 To Atticus, ii. 21. 2 75. ii. 22. 



Clodius. 205 

the patricians, proud, idle, vicious, and self-indulgent, 
might be left to their mistresses and their gaming 
tables. They could do no mischief, unless they had 
leaders at their head, who could use their repourcea 
more effectively than they could do themselves. TberiT 
were two men only in Rome with whose help they 
could be really dangerous — Cato, because he was a 
fanatic, impregnable to argument, and not to be in- 
fluenced by temptation of advantage to himself ; 
Cicero, on accuant of his extreme ability, his per- 
sonal ambition, and his total want of political prin- 
ciple. Cato he knew to be impracticable. Cicero 
he had tried to gain ; but Cicero, who had played a 
first part as consul, could not bring himself to play a 
second, and, if the chance offered, had both powei 
and will to be troublesome. Some means had to bo 
found to get rid of these two, or at least to tie their 
hands and so keep them in order. There would be 
Pompey and Crassus still at hand. But Pompey 
was weak, and Crassus understood nothing beyond 
the art of manipulating money. Gabinius and Piso, 
the next consuls, had an indifferent reputation and 
narrow abilities, and at best they would have bat 
their one year of authority. Politics, like love, make 
strange bedfellows. In this difficulty accident threw 
n Caesar's way a convenient but most unexpected 
ally. 

Young Clodius, after his escape from prosecution 
by the marvellous methods which Crassus had pro- 
vided for him, was more popular than ever. He had 
been the occasion of a scandal which had brought in- 
famy on the detested Senate. His offence in itself 
seemed slight in so loose an Fge and was as nothing 
compared with the enormity di his judges. He had 



206 Ocesar, 

come out of his trial with a determination to be re- 
venged on the persons from whose tongues he had 
suffered most severely in the senatorial debates. Of 
these Cato had been the most savage ; but Cicero 
had been the most exasperating, from his sarcasms, 
his airs of patronage, and perhaps his intimacy with 
his sister. The noble youth had exhausted the com- 
mon forms of pleasure. He wanted a new excite- 
ment, and politics and vengeance might be combined. 
He was as clever as he was dissolute, and, as clever 
men are fortunately rare in the licentious part of so- 

, dety, they are always idolized, because they make 

vice respectable by connecting it with intellect. Clo- 
dius was a second, an abler Catiline, equally unprin- 
cipled and far more dexterous and prudent. In times 
of revolution there is always a disreputable wing to 
the radical party, composed of men who are the nat- 
ural enemies of established authority, and these all 
rallied about their new leader with devout enthusi- 
asm. Clodius was not without political experience. 
His first public appearance had been as leader of a 
mutiny. He was already qusestor, and so a Senator ; 
but he w\^s too young to aspire to the higher magis- 
\racies which were open to him as a patrician. He 
declared his intention of renouncing his order, becom- 
ing a plebeian, and standing for the tribuneship of the 
people. There were precedents for such a step, but 
they were rare. The abdicating noble had to be 
adopted into a plebeian family, and the consent was 
required of the consuls and of the Pontifical College. 
With the growth of political equality the aristocracy 
had become more insistent upon the privilege of 
birth, which could not be taken from them ; and for 
a Claudius to descend among the canaille was as if a 



Clodius chosen Tribune. 207 

Howard were to seek adoption from a shopkeeper in 
the Strand. 

At first there was universal amazement. Ci-cero 
had used the intrigue with Pompeia as a text for a 
sermon on the immoralities of the age. The aspi- 
rations of Clodius to be a tribune he ridiculed as an 
illustration of its follies, and after scourging him in 
the Senate, he laughed at him and jested with him 
in private.^ Cicero did not understand with how 
venomous a snake he was playing. He even thought 
Clodius likely to turn against the Dynasts, and to 
become a serviceable member of the conservative 
party. Gradually he was forced to open his eyes. 
Speeches were reported to him as coming from Clo- 
dius or his allies threatening an inquiry into the 
death of the Catilinarians. At first he pushed his 
alarms aside, as unworthy of him. What had so 
great a man as he to fear from a young reprobate 
like " the pretty boy " ? The " pretty bo}^" how- 
ever, found favor where it was least looked for. 
Pompey supported his adventure for the tribuneship. 
Caesar, though it was Csesar's house which he had 
violated, did not oppose. Bibulus refused consent, 
but Bibulus had virtually abdicated and went for 
nothing. The legal forms were complied with. Clo- 
dius found a commoner younger than himself who 
was willing to adopt him, and who, the day after the 
ceremony, released him from the new paternal au- 
thority. He was now a plebeian, and free. He re- 
mained a senator in virtue of his quaestorship, and he 
was chosen tribune of the people for the year 58. 

Cicero was at last startled out of his security. So 
long as the consuls, or one of them, could be de- 

l "Jam familiariter cum illo etiam caviller ac jocor." — To Atticus, ii. 1. 



208 Omar, 

pended on, a tribune's power was insignificant. 
When tlie consuls were of bis own way of tbinking, 
a tribune was a very important personage indeed. 
Atticus was alarmed for bis friend, and cautioned 
bim to look to bimself. Warnings came from all 
quarters tbat miscbief was in tbe wind. Still it was 
impossible to believe tbe peril to be a real one. Cic- 
ero, to wbom Rome owed its existence, to be struck 
at by a Clodius ! It could not be. As little could a 
wasp hurt an elepbant. 

There can be little doubt that Ca3sar knew what 
Clodius had in his mind ; or that, if the design was 
not his own, he had purposely allowed it to go for- 
ward. Csesar did not wish to hurt Cicero. He 
wished well to him, and admired him ; but he did 
not mean to leave him free in Rome to lead a sena- 
torial reaction. A prosecution for the execution of 
the prisoners was now distinctly announced. Cicero 
as consul had put to death Roman citizens without a 
trial. Cicero was to be called to answer for the il- 
legality before the sovereign people. The danger 
was unmistakable ; and Caesar, who was still in the 
suburbs making his preparations, invited Cicero to 
avoid it, by accompanying him as second in command 
into Gaul. The offer was made in unquestionable 
sincerity. Caesar may himself have created the sit- 
uation to lay Cicero under a pressure, but he desired 
nothing so much as to take him as his companion, 
and to attach him to himself. Cicero felt the compli- 
ment and hesitated to refuse, but his pride again 
came in his way. Pompey assured him that not a 
hair of his head should be touched. Why Pompey 
gave him this encouragement, Cicero could never 
afterwards understand. The scenes in the theatres 



Prosecution of Cicero. 209 

had also combined to mislead him, and he misread 
the disposition of the great body of citizens. He 
imagined that they would all start up in his defence, 
Senate, aristocracy, knights, commoners, and trades- 
men. The world, he thought, looked back upon his 
consulship with as much admiration as he did him- 
self, and was always contrasting him with his suc- 
cessors. Never was mistake more profound. The 
Senate, who had envied his talents and resented his 
assumption, now despised him as a trimmer. His sar- 
casms had made him enemies among those who acted 
with him politically. He had held aloof at the crisis 
of Caesar's election and in the debates which fol- 
lowed, and therefore all sides distrusted him ; while 
throughout the body of the people there was, as Cae- 
sar had foretold, a real and sustained resentment at 
the conduct of the Catiline affair. The final opinion 
of Rome was that the prisoners ought to have been 
tried ; and that they were not tried was attributed 
not unnaturally to a desire, on the part of the Sen- 
ate, to silence an inquiry which might have proved 
inconvenient. 

Thus suddenly out of a clear sky the thunder-clouds 
gathered over Cicero's head. " Clodius," says Dion 
Cassius, " had discovered that among the senators 
Cicero was more feared than loved. There were few 
of them who had not been hit by his irony, or irri- 
tated by his presumption." Those who most agreed 
in what he had done were not ashamed to shuffle off 
upon him their responsibilities. Clodius,. now om- 
nipotent with the assembly at his back, cleared the 
way by a really useful step ; he carried a law abolish- 
ng the impious form of declaring the heavens unfa- 
vorable when an inconvenient measure was to be 

14 



210 Ccesar. 

stopped or delayed. Probably it formed a part of liia 
engagement with Caesar. Tiie law may have been 
meant to act retrospectively, to prevent a question 
being raised on the interpellations of Bibiihis. This 
done, and without paying the Senate the respect of 
first consulting it, he gave notice that he would pro- 
pose a vote to the assembl}^, to the effect that any 
person who had put to death a Roman citizen without 
trial, and without allowing him an appeal to the peo- 
ple, had violated the constitution of the State. Cicero 
was not named directly ; every senator who had voted 
for the execution of Cethegus and Lentulus and their 
companions was as guilty as he ; but it was known 
immediately that Cicero was the mark that was being 
aimed at ; and Caesar at once renewed the offer, which 
he made before, to take Cicero with him. Cicero, 
now frightened in earnest, still could not bring him- 
self to owe his escape to Csesar. The Senate, un- 
grateful as they had been, put on mourning with an 
affectation of dismay. The knights petitioned the 
consuls to interfere for Cicero's protection. The con- 
suls declined to receive their request. CaBsar outside 
the city gave no further sign. A meeting of the citi- 
zens was held in the camp. Caesar's opinion was in- 
vited. He said that he had not changed his senti- 
ments. He had remonstrated at the time against the 
execution. He disapproved of it still, but he did not 
directly advise legislation upon acts that were passed. 
Yet though he did not encourage Clodius, he did not 
interfere. ^ He left the matter to the consuls, and one 
of them was his own father-in-law, and the other was 
Gabinius, once Pompey's favorite officer. Gabinius, 
Cicero thought, would respect Pompey's promise to 
him. To Piso he made a personal appeal. He found 



Prosecution of Cicero, 211 

hiin^ he said afterwards,^ at eleven in the morning, in 
his slippers, at a low tavern. Piso came out, reeking 
with wine, and excused himself by saying that his 
health required a morning draught. Cicero attempted 
to receive his apology ; and he stood for a while at 
the tavern door, till he could no longer bear the smell 
and the foul language and expectorations of the con- 
sul. Hope in that quarter there was none. Two 
days later the assembly was called to consider Clo- 
dius's proposal. Piso was asked to say what he 
thought of the treatment of , the conspirators ; he an- 
swered gravely, and, as Cicero described him, with 
one eye in his forehead, that he disapproved of cruelty. 
Neither Pompey nor his friends came to help. Wliat 
was Cicero to do ? Resist by force ? The young 
knights rallied about him eager for a fight, if he would 
but give the word. Sometimes as he looked back in 
after years he blamed himself for declining their serv- 
ices, sometimes he took credit to himself for refusing 
to be the occasion of bloodshed.^ 

" I was too timid," he said once ; " I had the coun- 
try with me, and I should have stood firm. I had to 
do with a band of villains only, with two monsters of 
consuls, and with the male harlot of rich buffoons, the 
seducer of his sister, and the high priest of adultery, 
a poisoner, a forger, an assassin, a thief. The best 
and bravest citizens implored me to stand up to him. 
But I reflected that this Fury asserted" that he was 
supported by Pompey and Crassus and Caesar. Csesar 
had an army at the gates. The other two could raise 
another army when they pleased; and when they 
knew that their names were thus made use of, they 

1 Oratio in L. Pisonem. 

2 He seems to have even thought of suicide. — To Atticus, iii 9. 



212 Ccesar, 

remained silent. They were alarmed perhaps, be- 
cause the laws which they had carried in the preced- 
ing year were challenged by the new praetors, and 
were held by the Senate to be invalid ; and they were 
unwilling to alienate a popular tribune." ^ 

And again elsewhere : " When I saw that the fac- 
tion of Catiline was in power, that the party wkich I 
had led, some from envy of myself, some from fear 
for their own lives, had betrayed and deserted me ; 
when the two consuls had been purchased by promises 
of provinces, and had gone over to my enemies, and 
the condition of the bargain was, that I was to be 
delivered over, tied and bound, to my enemies ; when 
the Senate and knights were in mourning, but were 
not allowed to bring my cause before the people ; 
when my blood had been made the seal of the ar- 
rangement under which the State had been disposed 
of; when I saw all this, although 'the good' were 
ready to fight for me, and were willing to die for me, 
I would not consent, because I saw that victory or de- 
feat would alike bring ruin to the Commonwealth. 
The Senate was powerless. The Forum was ruled by 
violence. In such a city there was no place for me." ^ 

So Cicero, as he looked back afterwards, described 
the struggle in his own mind. His friends had then 
rallied ; Csesar was far away ; and he could tell his 
owr. story, and could pile his invectives on those who 
had injured him. His matchless literary power has 
given him exclusive command over the history of his 
time. His enemies' characters have been accepted 
from his pen as correct portraits. If we allow his 
description of Clodius and the two consuls to be true 

1 Abridged from the Oratiopro P. Sextio. 

2 Oratio post reditum ad Quirites. 



Banishment of Cicero, 213 

to the facts, what harder condemnation can be pro- 
nounced against a political condition in which such 
men as these could be raised to the first position in 
the State ? ^ Dion says that Cicero's resolution to 
yield did not wholly proceed from his own prudence, 
but was assisted by advice from Cato and Hortensius 
the orator. Anyway, the blow fell, and he went down 
before the stroke. His immortal consulship, in praise 
of which he had written a poem, brought after it the 
swift retribution which Caesar had foretold. When 
the vote proposed by Clodius was carried, he fled to 
Sicily, with a tacit confession that he dared not abide 
his trial, which would immediately have followed. 
Sentence was pronounced upon him in his absence. 
His property was confiscated. His houses in town 
and country were razed. The site of his palace in 
Rome was dedicated to the Goddess of Liberty, and 
he himself was exiled. He was forbidden to reside 
within four hundred miles of Rome, with a threat of 
death if he returned ; and he retired to Macedonia, 
to pour out his sorrows and his resentments in lamen- 
tations unworthy of a woman. 

1 In a letter to his brother Quintus, written at a time when he did not 
know the real feelings of Caesar and Pompey, and had supposed that he 
had only to deal with Clodius, Cicero announced a distinct intention of 
resisting by force. He expected that the whole of Italy would be at his 
Bide. He said: "Si diem nobis Clodius dixerit, tota Italia concurret, ut 
multiplicata gloria discedamus. Sin autem vi agere conabitur, spero fore, 
Btudiis non solum amicorum, sedetiam alienorum, ut vi resistamus. Omnes 
et se et suos liberos, amicos, clientes, libertos, servos, pecuniasdenique suaa 
poliicentur. Nostra antiqua manus bonorum ardet studio nostri atque 
amore. Si qui antea aut alieniores fuerant, aut languidiores, nunc horum 
regura odio se cum bonis conjungunt. Pompeius omnia pollicetur et Caesar, 
de quibus ita credo, ut nihil de mea comparatione deminuam." — Ad Qmw»- 
tum Fratrem^ i. 2. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Fkom the fermentation of Roman politics, the pas- 
sions of the Forum and Senate, the corrupt 
tribunals, the poisoned centre of the Empire, 
the story passes beyond the frontier of Italy. We 
no longer depend for our account of Caesar on the 
caricatures of rival statesmen. He now becomes him- 
self our guide. We see him in his actions and in the 
picture of his personal character which he has uncon- 
sciously drawn. Like all real great men, he rarely 
speaks of himself. He tells us little or nothing of 
his own feelings or his own purposes. Cicero never 
forgets his individuality. In every line that he wrote 
Cicero was attitudinizing for posterity, or reflecting 
on the effect of his conduct upon his interests or his 
reputation. Csesar is lost in his work ; his person- 
ality is scarcely more visible than Shakespeare's. He 
was now forty-three years old. His abstemious habits 
had left his health unshaken. He was in the fullest 
vigor of mind and body, and it was well for him that 
his strength had not been undermined. He was going 
on an expedition which would make extraordinary 
demands upon his energies. That he had not con- 
templated operations so extended as those which were 
forced upon him is evident from the nature of his 
preparations. His command in Further Gaul had 
been an afterthought, occasioned probably by news 
which had been received of movements in progress 
there during his consulship. Of the four legions 



Ancient Gaul, 215 

■which were allowed to him, one only was beyond the 
Alps ; three were at Aquileia. It was late in life 
for him to begin the trade of a soldier; and as yet, 
with the exception of his early service in Asia, and a 
brief and limited campaign in Spain when pro-pra3- 
tor, he had no military experience at all. His ambi- 
tion hitherto had not pointed in that direction ; nor 
is it likely that a person of so strong an understand- 
ing would have contemplated beforehand the deliber- 
ate undertaking of the gigantic war into which cir- 
cumstances immediately forced him. Yet he must 
have known that he had to deal with a problem of 
growing difficulty. The danger to Italy from inroads 
across the Alps was perpetually before the minds of 
thoughtful Roman statesmen. Events were at that 
moment taking place among the Gallic tribes which 
gave point to the general uneasiness. And, unwilling 
as the Romans w^ere to extend their frontiers and 
their responsibilities in a direction so unknown and 
so unpromising, yet some interference either by arms 
or by authority beyond those existing limits was be- 
ing pressed upon them in self-defence. 

The Transalpine Gaul of Caesar was the country 
included between the Rhine, the ocean, the Pyrenees, 
the Mediterranean, and the Alps. Within these lim- 
its, including Switzerland, there was at this time a 
population vaguely estimated at six or seven millions. 
The Roman Province stretched along the coast to the 
Spanish border ; it was bounded on the north by the 
Cevennes Mountains, and for some generations by 
the Isere ; but it had been found necessary lately ^ to 
annex the territory of the Allobroges (Dauphin e and 
Savoy), and the proconsular authority was now ex« 

1 Perhaps in consequence of the Catiline conspiracy. 



216 CcBsar, 

tended to within a few miles of Geneva. Tlie rest 
was divided into three sections, inhabited by races 
which, if allied, were distinctly different in language, 
laws, and institutions. The Aquitani, who were con- 
nected with the Spaniards or perhaps the Basques, 
held the country between the Pyrenees and the Ga- 
ronne. The Belgse, whom Cagsar believed to have 
been originally Germans, extended from the mouth 
of the Seine to the mouth of the Rhine, and inland 
to the Marne and Moselle. The people whom the 
Romans meant especially when they spoke of Gauls 
occupied all the remainder. At one time the Celts 
had probably been masters of the whole of France, 
but had gradually yielded to encroachment. Accord- 
ing to the Druids, they came out of darkness, ah Dite 
Patre ; they called themselves Children of Night, 
counting time by nights, instead of days, as we say 
fortnight and se'nnight. Comparison of language 
has taught us that they were a branch of the great 
Aryan race, one of the first which rolled westward 
into Europe, before Greeks or Latins had been 
heard of. 

This once magnificent people was now in a state 
of change and decomposition. On Aquitaine and 
Belgium Roman civilization had as yet produced no 
effect. The severe habits of earlier generations re- 
mained unchanged. The Gauls proper had yielded 
to contact with the Province and to intercourse with 
Italian traders. They had built towns and villages. 
They had covered the land with farms and home- 
steads. They had made roads. They had bridged 
their rivers, even such rivers as the Rhone and the 
Loire. They had amassed wealth, and had adopted 
habits of comparative luxury, which, if it had not 



The Druids. 217 

abated their disposition to fight, had diminished their 
capacity for fighting. Their political and perhaps 
'their spiritual system was passing through analogous 
transformations. The ancient forms remained, but 
an altered spirit was working under them. From the 
earliest antiquity they had been divided into tribes 
and sub-tribes : each tribe and sub-tribe being prac- 
tically independent, or united only by common ob- 
jects and a common sentiment of race. The rule was 
the rule of the strong, under the rudest forms of 
tribal organization. The chief was either hereditary 
or elected, or won his command by the sword. The 
mass of the people were serfs. The best fighters were 
self-made nobles, under the chief's authority. Every 
man in the tribe was the chiefs absolute subject; 
the chief, in turn, was bound to protect the meanest 
of them against injury from without. War, on a 
large scale or a small, had been the occupation of 
their lives. The son was not admitted into his fath- 
er's presence till he was old enough to be a soldier. 
When the call to arms went out, every man of the 
required age was expected at the muster, and the last 
comer was tortured to death in the presence of his 
comrades as a lesson against backwardness. 

As the secular side of things bore a rude resem- 
blance to feudalism, so on the religious there was a 
similar anticipation of the mediaeval Catholic Church. 
The Druids were not a special family, like the Le- 
vites, or in any way born into the priesthood. They 
were an order composed of persons selected, when 
young, out of the higher ranks of the commujiity, 
either for speciality of intellect, or from disposition, 
or by the will of their parents, or from a desire to 
«ivoid military service, from which the Druids were 



218 Ccesar, 

exempt. There were no tribal distinctions among 
them. Their headquarters were in Britain, to which 
those who aspired to initiation in the more profound 
mj'steries repaired for instruction ; but they were 
spread universally over Gau] and the British Islands. 
They were the ministers of public worship, the de* 
positaries of knov^ledge, and the guardians of pub- 
lic morality. Young men repaired to the Druids 
for education. They taught theology ; they taught 
the movements of the stars. They presided in the 
civil courts and determined questions of disputed in- 
heritance. They heard criminal cases and delivered 
judgment; and, as with the Church, their heaviest 
and most dreaded punishment was excommunication. 
The excommunicated person lost his civil rights. 
He became an outlaw from society, and he was ex- 
cluded from participation in the sacrifices. In the 
religious services the victims most acceptable to the 
gods were human beings — criminals, if such could 
be had ; if not, then innocent persons, who were 
burnt to death in huge towers of wicker. In the 
Quemadero at Seville, as in our own Smithfield, the 
prisoners of the Church were fastened to stakes, and 
the sticks with which they were consumed were tied- 
into faggots, instead of being plaited into basket- 
work. So slight a difference does not materially 
affect the likeness. 

The tribal chieftainship and the religious organiza- 
tion of the Druids were both of them inherited from 
antiquity. They were institutions descending from 
the. time when the Gauls had been a great people; 
but both had outlived the age to which they were 
adapted, and one at least was approaching its end. 
To Caesar's eye, coming new upon them, the Druida 



The j^dui. 219 

were an establislied fact, presenting no sign of decay, 
but in Gaul, infected with Roman manners, they ex- 
isted merely by habit, exercising no influence any 
longer over the hearts of the people. In the great 
struggle which was approaching we find no Druids 
among the national leaders, no spirit of religion in- 
spiring and consecrating the efforts of patriotism. 
So far as can be seen, the Druids were on the Roman 
side, or the Romans had the skill to conciliate them. 
In half a century they were suppressed by Augustus, 
and they and their excommunications, and their flam- 
ing wicker works, had to be sought for in distant 
Britain, or in the still more distant Ireland. The 
active and secular ^leadership could not disappear 
so easily. Leaders of some kind were still required 
and inevitably found, but the method of selection in 
the times which had arrived was silently changing. 
While the Gallic nation retained, or desired to retain, 
a kind of unity, some one of the many tribes had 
always been allowed a hegemony. The first place 
had rested generally with the jEdui, a considerable 
people who occupied the central parts of France, be- 
tween the Upper Loire and the Sa6ne. The Ro- 
mans, anxious naturally to extend their influence in 
the country without direct interference, had taken 
the ^dui under their protectorate. The iEdui again 
had their clients in the inferior tribes ; and a Ro- 
mano-^duan authority of a shadowy kind had thus 
penetrated through the whole nation. 

But the ^duans had rivals and competitors in the 
Sequani, another powerful body in Burgundy and 
Franche-Corate. If the Romans feared the Gauls, 
the Gauls in turn feared the Romans ; and a national 
\;)arty had formed itself everywhere, especially among 



220 Q(E%ar, 

tlie younger men, wlio were proud of their indepen- 
dence, impatient of foreign control, and determined to 
maintain the liberties which had descended to them. 
To these the Sequani offered themselves as cham- 
pions. Among the ^dui too there were fiery spirits 
who cherished the old traditions, and saw in the Ro- 
man alliance a prelude to annexation. And thus it 
was that when Caesar was appointed to Gaul, in every 
tribe and every sub-tribe, in every village and every 
family, there were two factions,^ each under its own 
captain, each struggling for supremacy, each conspir- 
ing and fighting among themselves, and each seeking 
or leaning upon external support. In many, if not 
in all, of the tribes there was a senate, or council of 
elders, and these appear almost everywhere to have 
been .^duan and Roman in their sympathies. The 
Sequani as the representatives of nationalism, know- 
ing that they could not stand alone, had looked for 
friends elsewhere. 

The Germans had long turned covetous eyes upon 
the rich cornfields and pastures from which the Rhine 
divided them. The Cimbri and Teutons had been 
but the vanguard of a multitude who were eager to 
follow. The fate of these invaders had checked the 
impulse for half a century, but the lesson was now 
forgotten. Ariovistus, a Bavarian prince, who spoke 
Gaelic like a native, and had probably long meditated 
conquest, came over into Franche-Comt^ at the invi- 

1 " In Gallia non solum in omnibus civitatibus atque in omnibus pagis 
partibusque sed psene etiam in singulis domibus factiones sunt, earumque 
factionum principes sunt qui summam auctoritatem eorum judicio habere 

existimantur Haec est ratio in summa totius Gallise, namque omnes 

civitates in partes divisae sunt duas. Cum Caesar in Galliam venit, alterius 
factionis principes erant Hsedui, alterius Sequani."— De Bello Gallico, lib. 
vri. capp. 11, 12. 



The ffelvetii. 221 

tation of the Sequani, bringing his people with him. 
The few thousand families which were first intro- 
duced had been followed by fresh detachments ; they 
had attacked and beaten the ^dui, out of whose ter- 
ritories they intended to carve a settlement for then.- 
selves. They had taken hostages from them, and 
had broken down their authority, and the faction of 
the Sequani was now everywhere in the ascendant. 
The jEdui, three years before Caesar came, had ap- 
pealed to Rome ior assistance, and the Senate had 
promised that the Governor of Gaul should support 
them. The Romans, hoping to temporize with the 
danger, had endeavored to conciliate Ariovistus, and 
in the year of Csesar's consulship had declared him a 
friend of the Roman people. Ariovistus, in turn, 
had pressed the JEdui still harder, and had forced 
them to renounce the Roman alliance. Among the 
JEdui, and throughout the country, the patriots were 
in the ascendant, and Ariovistus and his Germans 
were welcomed as friends and deliverers. Thoughtful 
persons in Rome had heard of these doings with un- 
easiness ; an old JEduan chief had gone in person 
thither, to awaken the Senate to the growing peril ; 
but the Senate had been too much occupied with 
its fears of Caesar, and Agrarian laws, and dangers 
to the fish-ponds, to attend; and now another great 
movement had begun, equally alarming and still 
closer to the Roman border. 

The Helvetii were old enemies. They were a 
branch of the Celtic race, who occupied modern 
Switzerland, hardy, bold mountaineers, and seasoned 
in constant war with their German neighbors. On 
them, too, the tide of migration from the North had 
j^ressed continuously. They had hitherto defended 



222 Cmmr. 

themselves successfully, but they were growing weary 
of these constant efforts. Their numbers were increas- 
ing, and their narrow yalleys were too strait for them. 
They also had heard of fertile, scantily peopled lands 
in other parts, of which they could possess themselves 
by force or treaty, and they had already shown signs 
of restlessness. Many thousands of them had broken 
out at the time of the Cimbrian invasion. They had 
defeated Cassius Longinus, who was then consul, near 
their own border, and had annihilated his army. 
They had carried fire and sword down the left bank 
of the Rhone. They had united themselves with the 
Teutons, and had intended to accompany them into 
Italy. Their first enterprise failed. They perished 
in the great battle at Aix, and the parent tribe had 
remained quiet for forty years till a new generation 
had grown to manhood. Once more their ambition 
had revived. Like the Germans, they had formed 
friendships among the Gallic factions. Their reputa- 
tion as warriors made them welcome to the patriots. 
In a fight for independence they would form a valua- 
ble addition to the forces of their countrymen. They 
had allies among the Sequani ; they had allies in the 
anti-Roman party which had risen among the ^dui ; 
and a plan had been formed in concert with their 
friends for a migration to the shores of the Bay of 
Biscay between the mouths of the Garonne and the 
Loire. The Cimbri and Teutons had passed away, 
but the ease with which the Cimbri had made the cir- 
cuit of these districts had shown how slight resistance 
could be expected from the inhabitants. Perhaps 
their coming had been anticipated and prepared for. 
The older men among the Helvetii had discouraged 
the project when it was first mooted, but they Lad 



The Helvetii. 223 

yielded to eagerness and enthusiasm, and it had taken 
at last a practical form. Double harvests had been 
raised ; provision had been made of food and trans- 
port for a long march ; and a complete exodus of the 
entire tribe with their wives and families had been 
finally resolved on. 

If the Helvetii deserted Switzerland, the cantons 
would be immediately occupied by Germans, and a 
road would be opened into the Province for the en- 
emy whom the Romans had most reason to dread. 
The distinction between Germans and Gauls was not 
accurately known at Rome. They were confounded 
under the common name of Celts ^ or Barbarians. 
But they formed together an ominous cloud charged 
with forces of uncertain magnitude, but of the reality 
of which Italy had already terrible experience. Di- 
vitiacus, chief of the JEdui, who had carried to Rome 
the news of the inroads of Ariovistus, brought again 
in person thither the account of this fresh peril. 
Every large movement of population suggested the 
possibility of a fresh rush across the Alps. Little 
energy was to be expected from the Senate. But the 
body of the citizens were still sound at heart. Their 
lives and properties were at stake, and they could 
feel for the dignity of the Empire. The people had 
sent Pompey to crush the pirates and conquer Mith- 
ridates. The people now looked to Casar, and in- 
stead of the* woods and forests " which the Senate 
designed for him, they had given him a five years' 
command on their western frontier. 

The details of the problem before him Cjfisar had 
yet to learn, but with its general nature he must liave 
intimately acquainted himself. Of course he had seen 

1 Even Dion Cassius speaks of the Germans as KeArot. 



224 Ccesar. 

and spoken with Divifclacus. He was consul when 
Ariovistns was made " a friend of the Roman peo- 
ple." He must have been aware, therefore, of the 
introduction of the Germans over the Rhine. He 
could not tell what he might have first to do. There 
were other unpleasant symptoms on the side of Iliyria 
and the Danube. From either quarter the storm 
might break upon him. No Roman general was ever 
sent upon an enterprise so fraught with complicated 
possibilities, and few with less experience of the reali- 
ties of war. 

The points in his favor were these. He was the 
ablest Roman then living, and he had the power of 
attracting and attaching the ablest men to his serv- 
ice. He had five years in which to look about him 
and to act at leisure — as much time as had been 
given to Pompey for the East. Like Pompey, too, 
he was left perfectly free. No senatorial officials 
could incumber him with orders from home. The 
people had given him his command, and to the people 
alone he was responsible. Lastly, and beyond every- 
thing, he could rely with certainty on the material 
with which he had to work. The Roman legionaries 
were no longer yeomen taken from the plough or 
shopkeepers from the street. They were men more 
completely trained in every variety of accomplish- 
ment than have perhaps ever followed a general into 
\:he field before or since. It was no^ enough that 
they could use sword and lance. The campaign on 
which Caesar was about to enter was fought. with 
spade and pick and axe and hatchet. Corps of eu" 
gineers he may have had ; but if the engineers de- 
signed the work, the execution lay with the army. 
No limited department would have been equal to the 



Composition of Cccsars Army. 22c 

tasks which every day demanded. On each evening 
after a march, a fortified cnrnp was to be formed, 
with mound and trench, capable of resisting sur- 
prises, and demanding the labor of every single hand. 
Bridges had to be thrown over rivers. Ships and 
barges had to be built or repaired, capable of service 
against an enemy, on a scale equal to the require- 
ments of an army, and in a haste which permitted no 
delay. A transport service there must have been 
organized to perfection ; but there were no stores 
sent from Ital}^ to supply the daily waste of material. 
The men had to mend and perlujps make their own 
clothes and shoes, and repair their own arms. Skill 
in the use of tools was not enough without the tools 
themselves. Had the spades and mattocks been sup- 
plied by contract, had the axes been of soft iron, fair 
to the eye and failing to the stroke, not a man in 
Caesar's army would have returned to Kome to tell the 
tale of its destruction. How the legionaries acquired 
these various arts, whether the Italian peasantry were 
generally educated in such occupations, or whether 
on this occasion there was a special selection of the 
best, of this we have no information. Certain only 
it was that men and instruments were as excellent in 
their kind as honesty and skill could make them ; 
and, however degenerate the patricians and corrupt 
the legislature, there was sound stuff somewhere in 
the Roman constitution. No exertion, no forethought 
on the part of a commander could have extemporized 
such a variety of qualities. Universal practical ac- 
complishments must have formed part of the training 
of the free Roman citizens. Admirable workmanship 
was still to be had in each department of manufact- 

15 



226 Ccesar. 

ure, and every article with which Caesar was pro- 
vided must have been the best of its kind. 

The first quarter of the ^^ear 68 was consumed in 
preparations. Caesar's antagonists in the Senate were 
Btill raving against the acts of his consulship, threaten- 
ing him with impeachment for neglecting Bibulus's 
interpellations, charging him with impiety for disre- 
garding the weather, and clamoring for the sup- 
pression of his command. But Cicero's banishment 
damped the ardor of these gentlemen ; after a few 
vicious efforts, they subsided into sullennesss, and 
trusted to Ariovistus or the Helvetii to relieve them 
of their detested enemy. Csesar himself selected his 
officers. Cicero having declined to go as his lieuten- 
ant, he had chosen Labienus, who had acted with him 
when tribune, in the prosecution of Rabirius, and 
had procured him the pontificate by giving the elec- 
tion to the people. Young men of rank in large 
numbers had forgotten party feeling, and had at- 
tached themselves to the expedition as volunteers to 
learn military experience. His own equipments were 
of the simplest. No common soldier was more care- 
less of hardships than Caesar. His chief luxury was 
a favorite horse, which would allow no one but Caesar 
to mount him ; a horse which had been bred in his 
own stables, and, from the peculiarity of a divided hoof, 
had led the augurs to foretell wonders for the rider 
of it. His arrangements were barely completed when 
uews came in the middle of March that the Helvetii 
were burning their towns and villages, gathering their 
families into their wagons, and were upon the point 
of commencing their emigration. Their numbers, ac- 
cording to a register which was found afterwards, 
were 368,000, of whom 92,000 were fighting men. 



The HelvetiL 227 

They were bound for the West ; and there were two 
roads, by one or other of which alone they could 
leave their country. One was on the rigjit bank of 
the Rhone by the Pas de I'Ecluse, a pass between 
the Jura mountains and the river, so narrow that 
but two carts could go abreast along it ; the other, 
and easier, was through Savoy, which was now Ro- 
man. 

Under any aspect the transit of so vast a body 
through Roman territory could not but be dangerous. 
Savoy was the very ground on which Longinus had 
been destroyed. Yet it was in this direction that the 
Helvetii were preparing to pass, and would pass un- 
less they were prevented ; while in the whole Transal- 
pine province there was but a single legion to oppose 
them. Csesar started on the instant. He reached 
Marseilles in a few days, joined his legion, collected a 
few levies in the Province, and hurried to Geneva. 
Where the river leaves the lake there was a bridge 
which the Helvetii had neglected to occupy. Csesar 
broke it, and thus secured a breathing time. The 
Helvetii, who were already on the move and were as- 
sembling in force a few miles off, sent to demand a 
passage. If it was refused, there was more than one 
spot between the lake and the Pas de I'Ecluse where 
the river could be forded. The Roman force was 
Bmall, and Csesar postponed his reply. It was the 
1st of April ; he promised an answer on the 15th. In 
the interval he threw up forts, dug trenches, and 
raised walls at every point where a passage could bo 
attempted ; and when the time was expired, he de- 
clined to permit them to enter the Province. They 
tried to ford ; they tried boats ; but at every point 
they were beaten back. It remained for them to go 



228 Cucmr. 

hy the Pas de I'Ecluse. For this route the}^ required 
the consent of the Sequani; and, however willing tlie 
Sequani might be to see them in their neighbors' 
territories, they might object to the presence in their 
own of such a flight of devouring locusts. Evident' 
ly, however, there was some general scheme, of which 
the entry of the Helvetii into Gaul was the essential 
part; and tlirough the mediation of Dumnorix, an 
JEduan and an ardent patriot, the Sequani were in- 
duced to agree. 

The Province had been saved, but the exodus of the 
enormous multitude could no longer be prevented. If 
such waves of population were allowed to wander at 
pleasure, it v/as inevitable that sooner or later they 
would overflow the borders of the Empire. Csesar 
determined to show, at once and peremptorily, that 
these movements would not be permitted without the 
Romans' consent. Leaving Labienus to guard the 
forts on the Rhone, he Inirried back to Italy, gathered 
up his three legions at Aquileia, raised two more at 
Turin with extreme rapidity, and returned with them 
by the shortest route over the Mont Genevre. The 
mountain tribes attacked him, but could not even de- 
lay his march. In seven days he had surmounted the 
passes, and was again with Labienus. 

The Helvetii, meanwhile, had gone through the Pas 
de I'Eclase, and were now among the ^dui, laying 
waste the country. It was early in the summer. The 
corn was green, the \va.y was still uncut, and the crops 
were being eaten off the ground. The JEdui threw 
themselves on the promised protection of Rome. Cse- 
ES.r ci ossed the Rhone above Lyons, and came up with 
the marauding hosts as they were leisurely passing in 
boats over the SaOne. They had been twenty days 



The Helvetiu 229 

upon the river, transporting their wagons and their 
families. Three quarters of them were on the other 
side. The Tigurini from Zurich, the most warlike of 
their tribes, were still on the left bank. The Tigu- 
rini had destroyed the arm 3^ of Longinus, and on them 
the first retribution fell. Caesar cut them to pieces. 
A single day sufficed to throw a bridge over the Sa6ne, 
and the Helvetii, who had looked for nothing less 
than to be pursued by six Roman legions, begged for 
peace. They were willing, they said, to go to any 
part of the country which Csesar would assign to 
them ; and they reminded him that they might be 
dangerous, if pushed to extremities. Caesar knew 
that they were dangerous. He had followed them 
because he knew it. He said that they must return 
the way that they had come. They must pay for the 
injuries which they had inflicted on the JEdui, and 
they must give him hostages for their obedience. 
The fierce mountaineei's replied that they had been 
more used to demand hostages than to give them ; 
and confident in their numbers, and in their secret 
allies among the Gauls, they marched on through the 
JEduan territories up the level banks of the Sa6ne, 
thence striking west towards Autun. 

Csesar had no cavalr}^ ; but every Gaul could ride, 
and he raised a few thousand horse among his sup- 
posed allies. These he meant to employ to harass 
the Helvetian march ; but they were secret traitors, 
under the influence of Dumnorix, and they fled at the 
first encounter. The Helvetii had thus the country 
at their merc}^, and they laid it waste as the}^ went, 
a day's march in advance of the Romans. So long as 
they kept by the river, Caesar's stores accompanied 
him in barges. He did not choose to let the Helvetii 



230 C(ssar, 

out of his siglit, and when they lett the Sa6ne, and 
when he was obliged to follow, his provisions ran 
short. He applied to the jEduan chiefs, who prom- 
ised to furnish him, but they failed to do it. Tea 
days passed, and no supplies came in. He ascertained 
at last that there was treachery. Dumnorix ai.d 
other ^dnan leaders were in correspondence with the 
enemy. The cavalry defeat and the other failures 
were thus explained. Csesar, who trusted much to 
gentleness and to personal influence, was unwilling to 
add the ^dui to his open enemies. Dumnorix was 
the brother of Divitiaeus, the reigning chief, whom 
Caesar had known in Rome. Divitiaeus was sent 
for, confessed with tears his brother's misdeeds, and 
begged that he might be forgiven. Dumnorix was 
brought in. Caesar showed that he was aware of his 
conduct ; but spoke kindly to him, and cautioned him 
for the future. The corn carts, however, did not ap- 
pear ; supplies could not be dispensed with ; and the 
Romans, leaving the Helvetii, struck off to Bibracte, 
on Mont Beauvray, the principal JEduan town in the 
highlands of Nivernais. Unfortunately for themselves, 
the Helvetii thought the Romaris were flying, and be- 
came in turn the pursuers. They gave Csesar an op- 
portunity, and a single battle ended them and their 
migrations. The engagement lasted from noon till 
night. The Helvetii fought gallantly, and in numbers 
were enormously superior; but the contest was be- 
tween skill and courage, sturdy discipline and wild 
valor ; and it concluded as such contests always must, 
[n these hand-to-hand engagements there were no 
wounded. Half the fighting men of the Swiss were 
killed ; their camp was stormed ; the survivors, with 
the remnant of the women and children, or such ol 



Defeat of the HelvetiL 231 

them as were capable of moving (for thousands had 
perished, and a little more than a third remained of 
those who had left Switzerland), straggled on to Ian- 
gres, where they surrendered. Ctesar treated the poor 
creatures with kindness and care. A few were set- 
tled in Gaul, where they afterwards did valuable sei v- 
ice. The rest were sent back to their own cantons, 
lest the Germans should take possession of their lands ; 
and lest they should starve in the homes which they 
had desolated before their departure, they were pro- 
vided with food out of the Province till theii next 
crops were grown. 

A victory so complete and so unexpected astonished 
the whole country. The peace party recovered the 
ascendency. Envoys came from all the Gaulish tribes 
to congratulate, and a diet of chiefs was held under 
Caesar's presidency, where Gaul and Roman seemed 
to promise one another eternal friendship. As yet, 
however, half the mischief only had been dealt with, 
and that the lighter part. The Helvetii were dis- 
posed of, but the Germans remained ; and till Ari- 
ovistus was back across the Rhone, no permanent 
peace was possible. Hitherto Caesar had only received 
vague information about Ariovistus. When the diet 
vas over, such of the chiefs as were sincere in their 
professions came to him privately and explained what 
the Germans were about. A hundred and twenty 
thousand of them were now settled near Belfort, and 
between the Vosges and the Rhine, with the conni- 
vance of the Sequani. More were coming; in a short 
time Gaul would be full of them. They had made 
war on the JEdui ; they were in correspondence with 
the anti-Roman factions ; their object was the per- 
manent occupation of the country. 



232 Ccemr. 

Two months still remained of summer. Csssar was 
now conveniently near to the German positions. His 
army was in high spirits from its victory, and he him- 
self was prompt in forming resolutions and swift in 
executing them. An injury to the JEdui could be 
treated as an injury to the Romans, which it would 
be dishonor to pass over. If the Germans were al- 
lowed to overrun Gaul, they might soon be seen again 
in Italy. 

Ariovistus was a "friend of Rome." Csesar had 
been himself a party to the conferring this distinc- 
tion upon him. As a friend, therefore, he was iiuthe 
first instance to be approached. C^Esar sent to invite 
him to a conference. Ariovistus, it seemed, set small 
value upon his honors. He replied that if he needed 
anything from Ca3sar, he would go to Cassar and ask 
for it. If Caesar required anything from him, Caesar 
might do the same. Meanwhile Caesar was approach- 
ing a part of Gaul which belonged to himself by right 
of conquest, and he wished to know the meaning of 
the presence of a Roman army there. 

After such an answer, politeness ceased to be nec- 
essary. Caesar rejoined that since Ariovistus esti- 
mated so lightly his friendship with the Romans as to 
refuse an amicable meeting, he would inform him 
briefly of his demands upon him. The influx of Ger- 
mans on the Rhine must cease : no more must come 
in. He must restore the hostages which he had taken 
from the JEdui, and do them no further hurt. If Ari- 
ovistus complied, the Romans would continue on good 
terms with him. If not, he said that by a decree of 
the Senate the Governor of Gaul was ordered to pro- 
tect the ^dui, and he intended to do it. 

Ariovistus answered that he had not interfered with 



Alarm in the Itoiitan Army, 233 

fche Romans ; and the Romans had no right to inter- 
fere with him. Conquerors treated their subjects 
as they pleased. The J^dui had begun the quarrel 
with him. They had been defeated, and were now 
his vassals. If Caesar chose to come between him 
and his subjects, lie would have an opportunity of 
seeing how Germans could fight who had not for 
fourteen years slept under a roof. 

It was reported that a large body of Suevi were 
coming over the Rhine to swell Ariovistus's force, and 
that Ariovistus was on the point of advancing to 
seize Besan9on. BesauQon was a position naturally 
strong, being surrounded on three sides by the Doubs. 
It was full of military stores, and was otherwise im 
portant for the control of the Sequani. Caesar ad- 
vanced swiftly and took possession of the place, and 
announced that he meant to go and look for Ariovis- 
tus. 

The army so far had gained brilliant successes, but 
the men were not yet fully acquainted with the nat- 
ure of their commander. They had never yet looked 
Germans in the face, and imagination magnifies the 
unknown. Roman merchants and the Gauls of the 
neighborhood brought stories of the gigantic size and 
strength of these Northern warriors. The glare of 
their eyes was reported to be so fierce that it could 
not be borne. ' They were wild, wonderful, and dread- 
ful. Young officers, patricians and knights, who had 
followed Caesar for a little mild experience, began to 
dislike the notion of these new enemies. Some ap- 
plied for leave of absence ; others, though ashamed 
to ask to be allowed to leave the army, cowered m 
in then' tents with sinking hearts, made their wills, 
and composed last messages for their friends. The 



234 Ccesar. 

centurions caught the alarm from their superiors, and 
the legionaries from the centurions. To conceal their 
fear of the Germans, the men discovered that, if they 
advanced farther, it would be through regions where 
provisions could not follow them, and that they would 
be starved in the forests. At length, Caesar was in- 
formed that if he gave the order to march, the army 
would refuse to move. 

Confident in himself, Csesar had the power, so id- 
dispensable for a soldier, of inspiring confidence in 
others as soon as they came to know what he was. 
He called his ofiicers together. He summoned the 
centurions, and rebuked them sharply for questioning 
his purposes. The German king, he said, had been 
received at his own request into alliance with the Ro- 
mans, and there was no reason to suppose that he 
meant to break with them. Most likely he would do 
what was required of him. If not, was it to be con- 
ceived that they Avere afraid ? Marius had beaten 
these same Germans. Even the Swiss had beaten 
them. They were no more formidable than other 
barbarians. They might trust their commander for 
the commissariat. The harvest was ripe, and the 
difiiculties were nothing. As to the refusal to march, 
he did not believe in it. Romans never mutinied, 
save through the rapacity or incompetence of their 
general. His life was a witness that he was not ra- 
pacious, and his victory over the Helvetii that as yet 
he had made no mistake. He should order the ad- 
vance on the next evening, and it would then be seen 
■whether sense of duty or cowardice was the stronger. 
Tf others declined, Csesar said that he should go for- 
ward alone with the legion which he knew would fol- 
low him, the 10th, which was already his favorite. 



Interview with Ariov'istus. 235 

The speech was received with enthusiasm. The 
10th thanked CaBsar for his compliment to them. 
The rest, officers and men, declared their willingness 
to follow wherever he might lead them. He started 
with Divitiacus for a guide ; and, passing Belfort, 
came in seven days to Cernay or to some point near 
it. Ariovistus was now but four-and-twenty milea 
from him. Since C?esar Iiad come so far, Ariovistus 
said that he was willing to meet him. Day and place 
were named, the conditions being that the armies 
should remain in their ranks, and that Caesar and he 
might each bring a guard of horse to the interview. 
He expected that Caesar would be contented with an 
escort of the ^duan caYah■3^ Caesar, knowing better 
than to trust himself with Gauls, mounted his 10th 
legion, and with them proceeded to the spot which 
Ariovistus had chosen. It was a tumulus, in the cen- 
tre of a large plain equi-distant from the two camps. 
The guard on either side remained two hundred paces 
in the rear. The Geruian prince and the Roman gen- 
eral met on horseback at the mound, each accom- 
panied by ten of his followers. Caesar spoke first and 
fairly. He reminded Ariovistus of his obligations to 
the Romans. The iEdui, he said, had from imme- 
morial time been the leading tribe in Gaul. The Ro 
mans had an alliance with them of old standing, and 
never deserted their friends. He required Ariovistus 
to desist from attacking them, and to return their 
hostages. He consented that the Germans already 
across the Rhine might remain in Gaul, but he de- 
manded a promise that no more should be brought 
3ver. 

Ariovistus haughtily answered that he was a great 
king;, that he had come into Gaul by the invitation 



236 Ccesar. 

of the Gauls themselves; that the territory which he 
occupied was a gift from them ; and that the hostages 
of which Csesar spoke had remained wi^th him with 
their free consent. The JEdui, he said, had begun 
the war, and, being defeated, were made justly to pay 
forfeit. He had sought the friendship of the Romans, 
expecting to profit by it. If friendship meant the 
taking away his subjects from him, he desired no 
more of such friendship. The Romans had their 
Province. It was enough for them, and they might 
remain there unmolested. But Caesar's presence so 
far beyond his own borders was a menace to his own 
independence, and his independence he intended to 
maintain. Caesar must go away out of those parts, or 
he and his Germans would know how to deal with 
him. 

Then, speaking perhaps more privately, he told Cae- 
sar that he knew something of Rome and of the Ro- 
man Senate, and had learnt how the great people 
there stood affected towards the Governor of Gaul. 
Certain members of the Roman aristocracy had sent 
him messages to say that if he killed Caesar they 
would hold it a good service done,^ and would hold 
him their friend forever. He did not wish, he said, 
to bind himself to these noble persons. He would 
prefer Caesar rather ; and would fight Caesar's battles 
for him anywhere in the world if Caesar would but re- 
tire and leave him. Ariovistus was misled, not no 
naturally, by these strange communications from the 
sovereign rulers of the Empire. He did not know, 
he could not know, that the genius of Rome and tho 

1 ' M seab ipsis per eorum nuntios compertum habere, quorum omniuir. 
gratiaoi atque amicitiam ejus morte redimere posset." — Be Bell. Gall. i. 
44. ' 



Battle at Colmar. 237 

true chief of Rome were not in the treacherous Senate, 
but were before him there on the field in the persons 
of Ca3sar and bis legions. 

More might have passed between them ; but Ario- 
vistus thought to end the conference by a stroke oi 
treachery. His German guard had stolen round to 
where the Romans stood, and, supposing that they 
had Gauls to deal with, were trying to surround and 
disarm them. The men of the 10th legion stood 
firm; Csesar fell back and joined them, and, content- 
ing themselves with simply driving off the enemy, 
they rode back to the camp. 

The army was now passionate for an engagement. 
Ariovistus affected a desire for further communica- 
tion, and two officers were dispatched to hear what 
he had to say ; but they were immediately seized and 
put in chains, and the Germans advanced to within a 
few miles of the Roman outposts. The Romans lay 
intrenched near Cernay. The Germans were at Col- 
mar. Csesar offered battle, which Ariovistus declined. 
Cavalry fights happened daily which led to nothing. 
Csesar then formed a second camp, smaller but 
strongly fortified, within sight of the enemy, and 
threw two legions into it. Ariovistus attacked them, 
but he was beaten back with loss. The " wise 
women" advised him to try no more till the new 
moon. But Caesar would not wait for the moon, and 
forced an engagement. The wives and daughters of 
the Germans rushed about their camp, with streaming 
hair, adjuring their countrymen to save them from 
slavery. The Germans fought like heroes ; but they 
could not stand against the short sword and hand-to- 
hand grapple of the legionaries. Better arms and 
better discipline again asserted the superiority ; and 



238 Ccesar. 



m a few hours the invaders were flying wildly to the 
Rhine. Young PubUus Crassiis, the son of the mil- 
lionnaire, pursued with the cavahy. A few swam 
the river ; a few, Ariovistus among them, escaped in 
boats ; all the rest, men and women alike, were cut 
down and killed. The Suevi, who were already oft 
the Rhine, preparing to cross, turned back into their 
forests ; and the two immediate perils which threat- 
ened the peace of Gaul had been encountered and 
trampled out in a single summer. The first cam- 
paign was thus ended. The legions were distributed 
in winter quarters among the Sequani, the contrivers 
of the mischief ; and Labienus was left in charge of 
them. Caesar went back over the Alps to the Cisal- 
pine division of the Province to look into 
B. 067. ^, - . . . ^ . . , 

the admmistration and to communicate with 

his friends in Rome. 

In Gaul there was outward quiet ; but the news of 
the Roman victories penetrated the farthest tribes and 
agitated the most distant households on the shores of 
the North Sea. The wintering of the legions beyond 
the province was taken to indicate an intention of 
permanent conquest. The Gauls proper were divided 
and overawed ; but the Belgians of the North were 
not prepared to part so easily with their liberty. The 
Belgians considered that they too were menaced, and 
that now or never was the time to strike for their in- 
dependence. They had not been infected with Roman 
manners. They had kept the merchants from their 
borders with their foreign luxuries. The Nervii, the 
fiercest of them, as the abstemious Caesar marks with 
approbation, were water-drinkers, and forbade wine 
to be brought among them, as injurious to their sin- 
ews and their courage. Caesar learnt while in Italy 



Confederacy among the Belgoe. 239 

from Labieiius that the Belga) were imistering "and 
coQibmiiig. A second vast horde of Germans were in 
Fhmders and Artois ; men of the same race witli the 
Belgce and in active confederacy with them. They 
might have been left in peace, far oii' as they were, 
had they sat still ; but the notes of their prepara- 
tions were sounding through the country and feeding 
the restless spirit which was stunned but not sub- 
dued. 

Csesar, on his own responsibilit}^, raised two more 
legions and sent them across the Alps in the spring. 
When the grass began to grow he followed himself. 
Suddenly, before any one looked for him, he was on 
the Marne with his army. The Remi (people of 
Rheims), startled by his unexpected appearance, sent 
envoys with their submission and offers of hostages. 
The other Belgian tribes, they said, were determined 
upon war, and were calling all their warriors under 
arms. Their united forces were reported to amount 
to 300,000. The Bellovaci from the mouth of the 
Seine had sent 60,000 ; the Suessiones from Soissons, 
50, 000 ; the Nervii, between the Sambre and the 
Scheldt, 50,000; Arras and Amiens, 25,000; the 
coast tribes, 36,000 ; and the tribes between the Ar- 
dennes and the Rhine, called collectively Germani, 
40,000 more. This irregular host was gathered in 
the forests between Laon and Soissons. 

Caesar did not wait for them to move. He ad- 
vanced at once to Rheims, where he called the Sen- 
ate together and encouraged them to be constant to 
the Roman alliance. He sent a party of JEdui down 
the Seine to harass the territory of the Bellovaci and 
recall them to their own defence ; and he went on him- 
self to the Aisne, which he crossed by a bridge already 



240 Cc£sa)\ 

existing at Berry-au-Bac. There, with the bridge and 
river at his back, he formed an intrenched camp of 
extraordinary strength, with a wall twelve feet high 
and a fosse twenty-two feet deep. Against an at- 
tack with modern artillery such defences wo.dd, of 
course, be idle. As the art of war then stood, they 
were impregnable. .In this position Csesar waited, 
leaving six cohorts on the left bank to guard the 
other end of the bridge. The Belgse came forward 
and encamped in his front. Their watch-fires at 
night were seen stretching along a line eight miles 
wide. Csesar, after feeling his way with his cavalry, 
found a rounded ridge projecting like a promontory 
into the plain where the Belgian host was lying. On 
this he advanced his legions, protecting his flanks 
with continuous trenches and earthworks, on which 
were placed heavy crossbows, the ancient predecessors 
of cannon. Between these lines, if he attacked the 
enemy and failed, he had a secure retreat. A marsh 
lay between the armies ; and each waited for the 
other to cross. The Belgians, impatient of the delay, 
flung themselves suddenly on one side and began to 
pour across the river, intending to destroy the cohorts 
on the other bank, to cut the bridge, and burn and 
plunder among the Remi. Cffisar calmly sent back 
his cavalry and his archers and slingers. They caught 
the enemy in the water or struggling out of it in con- 
fusion ; all- who had got over vv^ere killed ; multitudes 
svere slaughtered in the river ; others, trying to cross 
on the bodies of their comrades, were driven back. 
The confederates, shattered at a single defeat, broke 
up like an exploded shell. Their provisions had run 
sliort. They melted away and dispersed to their 
homes, Labienus pursuing and cutting down all that 
he could overtake. 



Moveir.cnt against the Nervii. 241 

The Roman loss was insignificant in this battle. 
The most remarkable feature in Cresar's campaigns, 
and that which indicates most clearly his greatness 
as a commander, was the smallness of the number of 
men that he ever lost, either by the sword or by 
wear and tear. No general was ever so careful of his 
soldiers' lives. 

Soissons, a fortified Belgian town, surrendered the 
next day. From Soissons Csesar marched on Breteuil 
and thence on Amiens, which surrendered also. The 
Bellovaci sent in their submission, the leaders of the 
war party having fled to Britain. C«)sar treated them 
all with scrupulous forbearance, demanding nothing 
but hostages for their future good behavior. His in- 
tention at this time was apparently not to annex any 
of these tribes to Rome, but to settle the country in a 
quasi-independence under an ^duan hegemony. 

But the strongest member of the confederacy was 
still unsubdued. The hardy, brave, and water-drink- 
ins: Nervii remained defiant. The Nervii would send 
no envoys ; they would listen to no terms of peace.^ 
Caesar learnt that they were expecting to be joined by 
the Aduatuci, a tribe of pure Germans, who had been 
left behind near Liege at the time of the invasion of 
the Teutons. Preferring to engage them separately 
he marclie^ from Amiens through Cambray, and sent 
forward some officers and pioneers to choose a spot 
for a camp on the Sambre. Certain Gauls, who had 

1 Caesar thus records his admiration of the Nervian character: "Quo- 
rum de natura moribnsque Ca^-sar cum qujereret sic reperiebat, nullum adi- 
tum esse ad eos mercatoribus; niliil pati vini reliquarumque rerum ad lux- 
uriain pertinentium inferri, quod lis rebus relanguescere animos eonim tt 
Temitti virtutem existimarent: esse homines feros magnteque virtutis ; m- 
trepitare atque incusare reliquos Belgas qui se populo Romano dedidissent 
patrlamque virtutem projecissent; confirmare sese neque legates missuros 
aeque uUam conditionem pacis acccpturos." — De Bell. Gall. ii. 15. 
16 



242 Ccesar, 

observed his habits on march, deserted to the Nervii, 
and informed them that usually a single legion went 
in advance, the baggage wagons followed, and the 
rest of the army came in the rear. By a sudden at- 
tack in front they could overwhelm the advanced 
troops, plunder the carts, and escape before they 
could be overtaken. It happened that on this occa- 
sion the order was reversed. The country was in- 
closed with thick fences, which required to be cut 
through. Six legions marched in front, clearing a 
road ; the carts came next, and two legions behuid. 
The site selected by the officers was on the left bank 
of the Sambre at Maubeuge, fifty miles above Namur. 
The ground sloped easily down to the river, which 
was there about a yard in depth. There was a cor- 
responding rise on the other side, which was densely 
covered with wood. In this wood the whole force of 
the Nervii lay concealed, a few only showing them- 
selves on the water side. Csesar's light horse which 
had gone forward, seeing a mere handful of strag- 
glei-s, rode through the stream and skirmished with 
them ; but the enemy retired under cover ; the horse 
did not pursue ; the six legions came up, and, not 
dreaming of the nearness of the enemy, laid aside 
their arms, and went to work intrenching with spade 
and mattock. The baggage wagons began presently 
to appear at the crest of the hill, the signal for which 
the Nervii had waited ; and in a moment all along 
the river sixty thousand of them rushed out of the 
forest, sent the cavalry flying, and came on so im- 
petuously that, as Csesar said, they seemed to be in 
the wood, in the water, and up the opposite bank at 
Bword's point with the legions at the same moment. 
The surprise was complete : the Roman army was in 



Battle xvitli the Nervii. 243 

confusion. Many of the soldiers were scattered at a 
distance, cutting turf. None were in their ranks, 
and none were ai-nied. Never in all his campaigns 
was Caesar in greater danger. He could himself give 
no general orders which there was time to observe. 
Two points only, he said, were in his favor. The 
men themselves were intelligent and experienced, 
and knew what they had to do; and the ofhcers were 
all present, because he had directed that none of 
them should leave their companies till the camp was 
completed. The troops were spread loosely in their 
legions along the brow of the ridge. Caesar joined the 
10th on his right wing, and had but time to tell the 
men to be cool and not to agitate themselves, when 
the enemy were upon them. So sudden was the on- 
slaught that they could neither put their helmets on, 
nor strip the coverings from their shields, nor find 
their places in the ranks. They fought where they 
stood among thick hedges which obstructed the sight 
of what was passing elsewhere. Though the Aduat- 
uci had not come up, the Nervii had allies with 
them from Arras and the Somme. The allies en- 
countered the 8th, 9th, 10th, and 11th legions, and 
were driven rapidly back down the hill through the 
river. The Romans, led by Labienus, crossed in pur- 
suit, followed them into the forest, and took their 
camp. The Nervii meanwhile flung themselves with 
all their force on the two legions on the left, the 
1 2th and 7th, enveloped them with their numbers, 
penetrated behind them, and fell upon the baggage 
wagons. The light troops and the camp followers 
fled in all directions. The legionaries, crowded to- 
gether in confusion, were fighting at disadvantage, 
and were falling thick and fast. A party of horse 



244 Coesar. 

from Treves, wlio had come to treat with Csesar, 
thought that all was lost, and rode off to tell their 
countrymen that the Romans were destroyed. 

Caesar, who was in the other wing, learning late 
what was going on, hurried to the scene. He found 
the standards huddled together, the men packed so 
close that they could not use their swords, almost all 
the officers killed or wounded, and one of the best of 
them, Sextius Baculus (Caesar always paused in his 
narrative to note any one who specially distinguished 
himself), scarce able to stand. Caesar had come up 
unarmed. He snatched a shield from a soldier, and, 
bare-headed, flew to the front. He was known ; he 
addressed the centurions by their names. He bade 
them open their ranks and give the men room to 
strike. His presence and his calmness gave them 
back their confidence. In the worst extremities he 
observes that soldiers will fight well under their com- 
mander's eye. The cohorts formed into order. The 
enemy was checked. The two legions from the rear, 
who had learnt the danger from the flying camp fol- 
lowers, came up. Labienus, from the opposite hill, 
saw what had happened, and sent the 10th legion 
back. All was now changed. The fugitives, ashamed 
of their cowardice, rallied, and were eager to atone 
for it. The Nervii fought with a courage which filled 
Caesar with admiration — men of greater spirit he 
said that he had never seen. As their first mnks fell, 
they piled the bodies of their comrades into heaps, 
and from the top of them hurled back the Roman 
javelins. They would not fly ; they dropped where 
they stood ; and the battle ended only with tlieir ex- 
termination. Out of 600 senators there survived but 
three; out of 60,000 men able to bear arms, only 500. 
The aged of the tribe, and the women and children 



Capture of Namur. 245 

wlio had been left in the monisses for security, sent 
in their surrender, their warriors being iili dead. 
They j^i'ofessed to fear lest they might be destroyed 
l)y neighboring clans who were on bad terms with 
Ihem. Caesar received them and protected them, und 
gave severe injunctions that they should suifer no 
injury. 

By the victory over the Nervii the Belgian confed. 
eracy was almost extinguished. The German Adu- 
atuci remained only to be brought to submission. 
They had been on their way to join their country- 
men ; they were too late for the battle, and returned 
and shut themsefves up in Namur, the strongest posi- 
tion in the Low Countries. Caesar, after a short rest, 
pushed on and came under their walls. The Ad- 
natuci were a race of giants, and were at first defiant. 
When they saw the Romans' siege towers in prepara- 
tion, they could not believe that men so small could 
move such vast machines. When the towers bes^an 
to approach, they lost heart and sued for terms. 
Caesar promised to spare their lives and properties if 
they surrendered immediately^ but he refused to 
grant conditions. They had prayed to be allowed to 
keep their arms ; affecting to believe, like the Nervii, 
that they would be in danger from the Gauls if they 
were unable to defend themselves. Caesar undertook 
that they should have no hurt, but he insisted that 
their arms must be given up. They affected obedi- 
ence. They flung their swords and lances over the 
walls till the ditch was filled with them. They 
opened their gates ; the Romans occupied them, but 
were forbidden to enter, that there might be no plun- 
dering. It seems that there was a desperate faction 
among the Adnatuci who had been for fighting to 
extremity. A third part of the ai-ms had been se- 



246 Ccesar. 

cretly reserved, and after midnight the tribe sallied 
with all their force, hoping to catch the Romans 
sleeping. Caesar was not to be surprised a second 
time. Expecting that some sr.ch attempt might be 
made, he had prepared piles of faggots in convenient 
places. These bonfires were set blazing in an instant. 
By their red light the legions formed ; and, after a 
desperate but unequal combat, the Germans were 
driven into the town again, leaving 4,000 dead. In 
the morning the gates were broken down, and Namur 
was taken without more resistance. Caesar's usual 
practice was gentleness. He honored brave men, and 
never punished bold and open opposition. Of treach- 
ery he made a severe example. Namur was con- 
demned. The Aduatuci within its walls were sold 
into slavery, and the contractors who followed the 
army returned the number of prisoners whom they 
had purchased at 53,000. Such captives were the 
most valuable form of spoil. 

The Belgae were thus crushed as completely as the 
Gauls had been crushed in the previous year. Pub- 
lius Crassus had meanwhile made a circuit of Brit- 
tainy, and had received the surrender of the maritime 
tribes. So great was the impression made by these 
two campaigns, that the Germans beyond the Rhine 
sent envoys with offers of submission. The second 
season was over. Csesar left the legions in quarters 
about Chartres, Orleans, and Blois. He himself re- 
turned to Italy again, where his presence was iuipera- 
tively required. The Senate, on the news of his suc- 
cesses, had been compelled, by public sentiment, to 
order an extraordinary thanksgiving ; but there were 
men who were anxious to prevent Csesar from achiev- 
ing any further victories since Ariovistus had failed 
to destroy him. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Befoke his own catastrophe, and before he could 
believe that he was in danger, Cicero had 

" . B.C. 58. 

discerned clearl}^ the perils which threatened 
the State. The Empire was growing more extensive. 
The ••' Tritons of the fish-ponds " still held the reins ; 
and believed their own supreme duty was to divide 
the spoils among themselves. The pyramid was 
standing on its point. The mass which rested on it 
was becoming more portentous and unwieldy. The 
Senate was the official power ; the armies were the 
real power ; and the imagination of the Senate was 
that after each conquest the soldiers would be dis- 
missed back into humble life unrewarded, while the 
noble lords took possession of the new acquisitions, 
and added new millions to their fortunes. All this 
Cicero knew, and yet he had persuaded himself that 
it could continue without bringing on a catastrophe. 
He saw his fellow senators openly bribed; he saw the 
elections become a mere matter of money. He saw 
adventurers pushing themselves into office b}^ steep- 
ing themselves in debt, and paying their debts by 
robbing the provincials. He saw these high-born 
scoundrels coming home loaded with treasure, buying 
lands and building palaces, and, when brought to trial, 
purchasing the consciences of their judges. Yet he 
iiad considered such phenomena as the temporary ac- 
cidents of a constitution which was still the best tiiat 
could be conceived, and every one that doubted the 



248 CcBsar, 

excellence of it lie had come to legard as an enemy 
of mankind. So long as there was free speech in 
Senate and platform for orators like himself, all 
would soon be well again. Had not he, a mere coun- 
try gentleman's son, risen under it to wealth and 
consideration ? and was not his own rise a sufficient 
evidence that there was no real injustice ? Party- 
struggles were over, or had no excuse for continuance. 
Sylla's constitution had been too narrowly aristo- 
cratic. But Sylla's invidious laws had been softened 
by compromise. The tribunes had recovered their 
old privileges. The highest offices of State were 
open to the meanest citizen who was qualified for 
them. Individuals of merit might have been kept 
back for a time by jealousy ; the Senate had too long 
objected to the promotion of Pompey ; but their op- 
position had been overcome by purely constitutional 
means. The great general had obtained his com- 
mand by land and sea ; he, Cicero, having by elo- 
quent speech proved to the people that he ought to 
be nominated. What could any one wish for more ? 
And yet Senate and Forum were still filled with fac- 
tion, quarrel, and discontent! One interpretation 
only Cicero had been able to place on such a phe- 
nomenon. In Rome, as in all great communities, 
there were multitudes of dissolute, ruined wretches, 
the natural enemies of property and order. Bank- 
rupt members of the aristocracy had lent themselves 
to these people as their leaders, and had been the 
cause of all the trouble of the past j^ears. If such 
renegades to their order could be properly discour- 
aged or extinguished, Cicero had thought that there 
would be nothing more to desire. Catiline he had 
himself made an end of to his own immortal glory, 



Cicero and Clodius. 249 

but now Catiline bad revived in Clodius; and Clodius, 
so far from being discouraged, was petted and en- 
couraged by responsible statesmen who ought to have 
known better. Caesar had employed him ; Crassus 
had employed him ; even Pompey had stooped to 
connect himself with the scandalous 5^oung incen- 
diary, and had threatened to call in the army if the 
Senate attempted to repeal Caesar's iniquitous !aws.^ 
Still more inexplicable was the ingratitude of the 
aristocracy and their friends, the '' boni " or good — 
the " Conservatives of the State," ^ as Cicero still 
continued to call Csesar's opponents. He respected 
them ; he loved them ; he had done more for their 
cause than any single man in the Empire ; and yet 
they had never recognized his services by word or 
deed. He had felt tempted to throw up public life 
in disgust, and retire to privacy and philosophy. 

So Cicero had construed the situation before his 
exile, and he hfid construed it ill. If he had wished 
to retire he could not. He had been called to account 
for the part of his conduct for which he most admired 
himself. The ungracious Senate, as guilty as he, if 
guilt there had been, had left him to bear the blame 
of it, and he saw himself driven into banishment by 
an insolent reprobate, a patrician turned Radical and 
demagogue, Publius Clodius. Indignity could be car- 
ried no farther. 

Clodius is the most extraordinary figure in this ex- 
traordinary period. He had no character. He had 
no distinguished talent save for speech ; he had no 
policy ; he was ready to adopt any cause or person 
which for the moment was convenient to him; and 

1 To Atticus, ii. 16. 

* *' Conservatores Reipublicse." — Pro Sexiio. 



250 Ccesar. 

yet for five years this man was the omnipotent leader 
of the Roman mob. He could defy justice, insult the 
consuls, beat the tribunes, parade the streets with a 
gang of tirmed slaves, killing persons disagreeable to 
him ; and in the Senate itself he had his high friends 
and connections who threw a shield over him when 
his audacity had gone beyond endurance. We know 
Clodius only from Cicero ; and a picture of him from 
a second hand might have made his position more in- 
telligible, if not more reputable. Even in Rome it is 
scarcely credible that the Clodius of Cicero could 
have played such a part, or that the death of such a 
man should have been regarded as a national calam- 
ity. Cicero says that Clodius revived Catiline's fac- 
tion ; but what was Catiline's faction ? or how came 
Catiline to have a faction which survived him? 

Be this as it ma}^, Clodius had banished Cicero, and 
had driven him away over the seas to Greece, there, 
for sixteen months, to weary Heaven Snd his friends 
with his lamentations. Cicero had refused Caesar's 
offered friendship ; Caesar had not cared to leave so 
powerful a person free to support the intended attacks 
on his legislation, and had permitted, perhaps had 
encouraged, the prosecution. Cicero out of the way, 
the second person whose presence in Rome Csesar 
thought might be inconvenient, Marcus Cato, had 
been got rid of by a process still more ingenious. 
The aristocracy pretended that the acts of Csesar's 
consulship had been invalid through disregard of the 
interdictions of Bibulus ; and one of those acts had 
been the reduction of Clodius to the order of plebe- 
ians. If none of them were valid, Clodius was not 
legally tribune, and no commission which Clodius 
might confer through the people would have validity. 



Cato sent to Cyprus. 251 

A service was discovered by which Cato was tempted, 
and which he was induced to accept at Clodius's 
hands. Thus he was at once removed from the city, 
and it was no longer open to hiin to deny that CcBsar's 
laws had been properly passed. The work on which 
he was sent deserves a few words. The kingdom of 
Cyprus had long been attached to thecrown of Egypt. 
Ptolemy Alexander, dying in the year 80, had be- 
queathed both Eg3qot and Cyprus to Rome ; but the 
Senate had delayed to enter on their bequest, prefer- 
ring to share the fines which Ptolemy's natural heirs 
were required to pay for being spared. One of these 
heirs, Ptolemy Auletes, or " the Piper," father of the 
famous Cleopatra, was now reigning in Egypt, and 
was on the point of being expelled by his subjects. 
He had been driven to extortion to raise a subsidy 
for the senators, and he had made himself universall}'- 
abhorred. Ptolemy of Cyprus had been a better sov- 
ereign, but a less prudent client. He had not over- 
taxed his people ; he had kept his nfoney. Clodius, 
if Cicero's stor}^ is true, had a private grudge against 
him. Clodius had fallen among Cyprian pirates. 
'Ptolemy had not exerted himself for his release, and 
he had suffered unmentionable indignities. At all 
events, the unfortunate king was rich, and was un- 
willing to give what was expected of him. Clodius, 
on the plea that the King of Cyprus protected pirates, 
persuaded the Assembly to vote the annexation of tlie 
island ; and Cato, of all men, was prevailed on by the 
mocking tribune to carry out the resolution. He was 
well pleased with his mission, though he wished it to 
appear to be forced upon him. Ptolemy poisoned 
himself; Cato earned the glory of adding a new prov- 
ince to the Empire, and did not return for two years, 



252 Cmar, 

when lie brought 7,000 talents — a million and a half 
of English money — to the Roman treasnry. 

Cicero and Cato being thus put out of the way — 
Coesar being absent in Gaal, and Pompey lv»oking on 
without interfering — Clodius had amused himself 
with legislation. He gratified his corrupt friends in 
the Senate by again abolishing the censor's power to 
expel them. He restored cheap corn establishments 
in the city — the most demoralizing of all the meas- 
ures which the democracy had introduced to swell 
their numbers. He re'established the political clubs, 
which were hot-beds of distinctive Radicalism. He 
took away the right of separate magistrates to lay 
their vetos on the votes of the sovereign people, and 
he took from the Senate such power as they still pos- 
sessed of regulating the government of the Provinces, 
and passed it over to the Assembly. These resolu- 
tions, which reduced the administration to a chaos, he 
induced the people to decree by irresistible majorities. 
One measure only he passed which deserved commen- 
dation, though Clodius deserved none for introducing 
it. Pie put an end to the impious pretence of " ob- 
serving the heavens," of which Conservative officials 
had availed themselves to obstruct unwelcome mo- 
tions. Some means were, no doubt, necessary to check 
the precipitate passions of the mob ; but not means 
which turned into mockery the slight surviving rem- 
nants of ancient Roman reverence. 

In general politics the young tribune had no def- 
inite predilections. He had threatened at one time 
to repeal Caesar's laws himself. He attacked alter- 
nately the chiefs of the army ?<.nd of the Senate, and 
the people let him do what he pleased without with- 
drawing their confidence from him. He went every- 



Clodiua as Tribune, 253 

where spreading terror with liis body-guard of slaves. 
He quarrelled with the consuls, beat their lictors, and 
wounded Gabinius himself. Pompey professed to be 
in alarm for his life, and to be unable to appear in 
the streets. The state of Rome at this time has been 
well described by a modern historian as a " Wal- 
purgis dance of political witches." ^ 

Clodius was a licensed libertine ; but license has 
its limits. He had been useful so far; but a rein 
"was wanted for him, and Pompey decided at last that 
Cicero might now be recalled. Clodius 's term of 
office ran out. The tribunes for the new year were 
well disposed to Cicero. The new consuls were Len- 
tulus, a moderate aristocrat, and Cicero's personal 
friend ; and Metellus Nepos, who would do what 
Pompey told him. Caesar had been consulted by let- 
ter and had given his assent. Cicero, it might be 
thought, had learnt his lesson, and there was no de- 
Bire of protracting his penance. There were still 
difficulties, however. Cicero, smarting from wrath 
and mortification, was more angry with the aristo- 
crats, who had deserted him, than with his open en- 
emies. His most intimate companions, he bitterly 
said, had been false to him. He was looking regret- 
fully on Csesar's offers,^ and cursing his folly for 
having rejected them. The people, too, would not 
sacrifice their convictions at the first bidding for the 
convenience of their leaders ; and had neither forgot- 
ten nor forgiven the killing of the Catiline conspira- 

1 Mommsdi. 

* " Omnia sunt mea culpa commissa, qui ah his me amari putabam qui 
biviebant: eos non sequebar qui petebant." — Ad Familiares, xiv. 1. 
■* N iWcm est meum peccatum nisi quod iis credidi a quibus nefas putabam 

esse ra<3 decipi Intimus proximus fanilliarissimus quisque aut sibl 

pertimuit au mihi invidii." — Ad Qmntum Fratrem^ i. 4. 



254 Ocesar, 

tors; while Cicero, aware of the efforts which were 
being made, had looked for new allies in an impru- 
dent quarter. His chosen friend on tiie Conservative 
side was now Annius Milo, one of the new tribunes, 
a man as disreputable as Clodius himself ; deep in 
debt and looking for a province to indemnify him« 
self — famous hitherto in the schools of gladiators, in 
whose arts he was a proficient, and whose services 
were at his disposal for any lawless purpose. 

A decree of banishment could only be recalled by 
the people who had pronounced it. Clodius, though 
no longer in office, was still the idol of the mob ; and 
two of the tribunes, who were at first well inclined 
to Cicero, had been gained over by him. As early as 
possible, on the first day of the new year, Lentulus 
Spinther brought Cicero's case before the 
Senate. A tribune reminded him of a clause, 
attached to the sentence of exile, that no citizen 
should in future move for its repeal. The Senate 
hesitated, perhaps catching at the excuse; but at 
length, after repeated adjournments, they voted that 
the question should be proposed to the Assembly. 
The day fixed was the 25th of January. In antici- 
pation of a riot the temples on the Forum were occu- 
pied with guards. The Forum itself and the Senate- 
house were in possession of Clodius and his gang. 
Clodius maintained that the proposal to be submitted 
to the people was itself illegal, and ought to be re- 
sisted by force. Fabricius, one of the tribunes, had 
been selected to introduce it. When Fabricius pre- 
sented himself on the Rostra, there was a general 
rush to throw him down. The Forum was in theory 
fltill a sacred spot, where the carrying of arms was 
forbidden ; but the new age had forgotten such ob* 



Fight in the Forum, 255 

Bolete superstitions. The guards issued out of tlia 
temples with drawn swoids. The people were des- 
perate and determined. Hundreds were killed on 
both sides ; Quintus Cicero, who was present for his 
biother, narrowly escaping with his life. The Tiber, 
Cicero says — perhaps wdth some exaggeration — was 
covered with floating bodies ; the sewers were choked; 
the bloody area of the Forum had to be washed with 
sponges. Such *a day had not been seen in Rome 
since the fight between Cinna and Octavius.^ The 
mob remained masters of the field, and Cicero's cause 
had to wait for better times. Milo had been active 
in the combat, and Clodius led his victorious bands 
to Milo's house to destroy it. Milo brought an action 
against him for violence ; but Clodius was charmed 
even against forms of law. There was no censor as 
yet chosen, and without a censor the praetors pre- 
tended that they could not entertain the prosecution. 
Finding law powerless, Milo imitated his antagonist. 
He, too, had his band of gladiators about him ; and 
the streets of the Capitol were entertained daily by 
fights between the factions of Clodius and Milo. The 
Commonwealth of the Scipios, the laws and institu- 
tions of the mistress of the civilized world, had be- 
come the football of ruffians. Time and reflection 
brought some repentance at last. Towards the sum- 
mer '^ the cause of order " rallied. The consuls and 
Pompey exerted themselves to reconcile the more re- 
spectable citizens to Cicero's return ; and, with the 
gi-ound better prepared, the attempt was renewed 
^vith more success. h\ July the recall was again pro- 

1 *'Mi.-ijinisti3 turn, jiidices, corporibus civium Tiberim conipleri cloa< 

cas referciri, e foro spongiis effinyi panguinem Ciiecleui lantam, 

lantos acervos corporuiu extructcs, nisi forte illo Cinnano atque Octaviano 
die* quis imquam in foro vidit ? ' ' — Oratio pro P. Sextio, xxa.;-. 36. 



256 Ocesar. 

posed in the Senate, and Clodlns was alcne in op- 
posing it. When it was laid before the iVssembly, 
Clodius made another effort ; but voters had been 
brought np from other parts of Ital}^ wh) outnum- 
bered the city rabble ; Milo and his gladiators wei e 
in force to prevent another burst of violence ; and 
the great orator and statesman was given back to 
bis country. Sixteen months he had been lamenting 
h'mself in Greece, bewailing his personal ill-treat- 
ment. He was the single object of his own reflec- 
tions. In his own most sincere convictions he was 
the centre on which the destinies of Rome revolved. 
He landed at Brindisi on the 5th of August. His 
pardon had not yet been decreed, though he knew 
that it was coming. The happy neAvs arrived in a 
day or two, and he set out in triumph for Rome. 
The citizens of Brindisi paid him their compliments ; 
deputations came to congratulate from all parts of 
Italy. Outside the city every man of note of all the 
orders, save a few of his declared enemies, were wait- 
ing to receive him. The roofs and steps of the tem- 
ples were thronged with spectators. Crowds attended 
him to the Capitol, where he went to pour out his 
gratitude to the gods, and welcomed him home with 
shouts of applause. 

Had he been wise he would have seen that the re- 
joicing was from the lips outwards; that fine Avords 
were not gold ; that Rome and its factions were just 
where he had left them, or had descended one step 
lower. But Cicero was credulous of flattery when it 
echoed his own opinions about himself. The citi- 
zens, he persuaded himself, were penitent for their in- 
gratitude to the most illustrious of their countrymen. 
The acclamations filled him with the delighted belief 



1 



Return of Cicero, 257 

that he was to resume his place at the head of the 
State ; and, as he could not forgive his disgrace, his 
first object in the midst of his triumph was to re- 
venge himself on those who had caused it. Speeches 
of acknowledgment he had naturally to make both 
to the Senate and the Assembly. In addressing the 
people he was moderately prudent ; he glanced at the 
treachery of his friends, but he did not make too 
much of it. He praised his own good qualities, but 
not extravagantly. He described Pompey as *' the 
wisest, best, and greatest of all men that had been, 
were, or ever would be." Himself he compared to 
Marius returning also from undeserved exile, and he 
delicately spoke in honor of a name most dear to the 
Roman plebs. But he, he said, unlike Marius, had 
no enemies but the enemies of his country. He had 
no retaliation to demand for his own wrongs. If he 
punished bad citizens, it would be by doing well him- 
self ; if he punished false friends, it would be by 
never again trusting them. His first and his last ob- 
ject would be to show his gratitude to his fellow citi- 
zens.^ 

Such language was rational and moderate. He un- 
derstood his audience, and he kept his tongue under 
a bridle. But his heart was burning in him ; and 
what he could not say in the Forum he thought he 
might venture on with impunity in the Senate, which 
might be called his own dunghill. His chief wrath 
was at the late consuls. They were both powerful 
men. Gabinius was Pompey's chief supporter. Cal- 
purnius Piso was Csesar's father-in-Liw. Both had 
been named to the government of important prov' 
inces; and, if authority was not to be brought into 

1 Ad Quirites post Reditum. 
IT 



258 Ccesar. 

contempt, they deserved at least a show of outward 
respect. Cicero lived to desire their friendship, to 
affect a value for them, and to regret his violence : 
but they had consented to his exile ; and careless of 
decency, and oblivious of the chances of the future, 
he used his opportunity to burst out upon them iQ 
lanp;uag:e in which the foulest rufiian in the street*^ 
-would have scarcely spoken of the first magistrate's 
of the Republic. Piso and Gabinius, he said, were 
thieves, not consuls. They had been friends of Cati- 
line, and had been enemies to himself, because he had 
bafiied the conspiracy. Piso could not pardon the 
death of Cethegus. Grabinius regretted in Catiline 
himself the loss of his lover.^ Gabinius, he said, had 
been licentious in his youth ; he had ruined his fort- 
une ; he had supplied his extravagance by pimping ; 
and had escaped his creditors only by becoming trib- 
une. " Behold him," Cicero said, " as he appeared 
when consul at a meeting called by the arch thief 
Clodius, full of wine, and sleep, and fornication, his 
hair moist, his eyes heavy, his cheeks flaccid, and 
declaring, with a voice thick with drink, that he dis- 
approved of putting citizens to death without trial." ^ 
As to Piso, his best recommendation was a cunning 
gravity of demeanor, concealing mere vacuity. Piso 
knew nothing — neither law, nor rhetoric, nor war, 
nor his fellow men. " His face was the face of some 
half-human brute." " He was like a negro, a thing 

1 " Ejus vir Catilina." 

2 "Cum in Circo Flaminio non a tribune plebis consul in concioncm sed 
a latrone arciiipirata productus esset, primum processit qua auctoritate vir. 
Villi, soiiini, stupri plenus, madenti coma, gravibus oculis, fluentibus iruccis, 
prrtssa voce et teinulenta, quod in cives indemnatos esset animadveisani, id 
Bfti dixit gravid auctor veliementissime displicere." — Post Reditum in 
Benatu, S. 



Cicero's Abuse of Piso, 259 

(negotiuin) without sense or savor, a Cappadocian 
picked out of a drove in the slave market." ^ 

Cicero was not taking the best means to regain his 
influence in the Senate by stooping to vulgar brutal- 
ity. He cannot be excused by the manners of the 
age ; his violence was the violence of a fluent orator 
whose temper ran away with him, and who never re- 

1 Cicero could never leave Gabinius and Piso alone. Again and ac:ain 
he returned upon them railing like a fishwife. In his oration for Sextiua 
he scoffed at Gabinius's pomatum and curled hair, and taunted him with 
unmentionable sins; but he specially entertained himself with his descrip- 
tion of Piso : — 

"For Piso! " he said: "oh, gods, how unwashed, how stern he looked 
— a pillar of antiquity, like one of the old bearded consuls; his dress plain 
plebeian purple, his hair tangled, his brow a very pledge for the common- 
wealth! Such solemnity in his eye, such wrinkling of his forehead, that 
you would have said the State was resting ou his head like the sky on 
Alias. Here we thought we had a refuge. Here was the man to oppose 
the tilth of Gabinius ; his very face would be enough. People congratu- 
lated us on having one friend to save u.s from the tribune. Alas! I was 
deceived," etc., etc. 

Piso afterwards called Cicero to account in the Senate, and brought out 
a still more choice explosion of invectives. Beast, filth, polluted monster, 
and such like, were the lightest of the names which Cicero hurled back at 
one of the oldest members of the Roman aristocracy. A single specimen 
may serve to illustrate the cataract of nastiness which he poured alike on 
Piso and Clodius and Gabinius: " When all the good were hiding them- 
selves in tears," he said to Piso, " when the temples were groaning and 
the very houses in the city were mourning (over my exile), you, heartless 
madman that you are, took up the cause of that pernicious animal, that 
clotted mass of incests and civil blood, of villainies intended and impurity 
of crimes committed (he was alluding to Clodius, who was in the Senate 
probably 1 stening to him). Need I speak of your feasting, your laugh- 
ter, and handshakings — your drunken orgies with the tilthy compaiiiona 
of your potations ? Who in those days saw you ever sober, or doing any- 
thing that a citizen need not be ashamed of ? While your colleague's house 
was sounding with songs and cymbals, and he himself was dancing naked 
at a supper-party (cumque ipse nudus in conviviosaltaret), you, you coarse 
glutton, with less taste for music, were lying in a stew of Greek boys and 
•wine in a feast of the Centaurs and Lapitha?, wh re one cannot say wliether 
you drank most, or vomited most, or spi'.t most." — In L. Pisiniem, 10. 
The manners of the times do not excuse language of this kintl^ for there 
was pi Abably not another member of the Senate who indulged in it. If 
Cicero was disliked aud despised, he had his own tongue to thank for it. 



260 Ccemr, 

Bisted the temptation to insult an opponent. It did 
not answer with him ; he thought he was to be chief 
of the Senate, and the most honored person in the 
State again; he found that he had been allowed to 
return only to be surrounded by mosquitos whose 
delight was to sting him, w^hile the Senate listened 
with indifference or secret amusement. He had been 
promised the restoration of his property ; but he had 
a suit to prosecute before he could get it. Clodiua 
had thought to make sure of his Roman palace, by 
dedicating it to " Liberty." Cicero challenged the con- 
secration. It was referred to the College of Priests, 
and the College returned a judgment in Cicero's fa- 
vor. The Senate voted for the restoration. They 
voted sums for the rebuilding both of the palace on 
the Palatine Hill and of the other villas, at the public 
expense. But the grant in Cicero's opinion was a 
stingy one. He saw too painfully that those " who 
had clipped his wings did not mean them to grow 
again." ^ Milo and his gladiators were not sufficient 
support, and if he meant to recover his old power he 
found that he must look for stronger allies. Pompey 
had not used him well ; Pompey had promised to 
defend him from Clodius, and Pompey had left him 
to his fate. But by going with Pompey he could at 
least gall the Senate. An opportunity offered, and 
he caught at it. There was a corn famine in Rome. 
Cl'odi iS had promised the people cheap bread, but 
there was no bread to be had. The hungry mob 
howled about the Senate-house, threatening fire and 
massacre. The great capitalists and contractors were 
believed to be at their old work. There was a cry, 
^s in the " pirate " days, for some strong man to see 

1 To Attictis, iv. 2. 



Cicero and Clodius. 261 

to tbem and tlieir misdoings. Pompey was needed 
again. He bad been too much forgotten, and with 
Cicero's help a decree was carried wliicb gave Pom- 
pey control over tbe whole corn trade of tbe Empire 
for five years. 

This was something, and Pompey was gratified ; 
bat without an army Pompey could do little against 
the rouglis in the streets, and Cicero's house became 
the next battle-ground. The Senate had voted it to 
its owner again, and the masons and carpenters were 
Bet to work ; but the sovereign people had not been 
consulted. Clodius was now but a private citizen ; 
but private citizens might resist sacrilege if the mag- 
istrates forgot their duty. He marched to the Pala- 
tine with his gang. He drove out the workmen, 
broke down the walls, and wrecked the adjoining 
house which belonged to Cicero's brother Quintus. 
The next day he set on Cicero himself in the Via 
Sacra, and nearly murdered him, and he afterwards 
tried to burn the house of Milo. Consuls and trib- 
unes did not interfere. They were, perhaps, fright- 
ened. The Senate professed regret, and it was pro- 
posed to prosecute Clodius ; but his friends were too 
strong, and it could not be done. Could Cicero have 
wrung his necK:, as he had wrung the necks of Len- 
tulus and Cethegus, Rome and he would have had a 
good deliverance. Failing this, he might wisely have 
waited for the law, which in time must have helped 
him. But he let himself down to Clodius's level. 
He railed at him in the Curia as he had railed at 
Gabinius and Piso. He ran over his history ; he 
taunted him with incest with his sister, and with 
Glthy relations with vulgar millionnaires. He accused 
liim of having sold himself to Catiline, of having 



262 Ccesar, 

forged wills, murdered the heirs of estates and stolen 
their property, of having murdered officers of the 
Treasury and seized the public money, of having 
outraged gods and men, decency, equity, and law ; of 
haying suffered every abomination and committed 
every crime of which human nature was capable. 
So Cicero spoke in Clodius's own hearing and in the 
hearing of his friends. It never occurred to him 
that if half these crimes could be proved, a Com- 
monwealth in which such a monster could rise to 
consequence was not a Commonwealth at all, but a 
frightful mockery, which he and every honest man 
were called on to abhor. Instead of scolding and 
flinging impotent filth, he should have withdrawn 
out of public life when he could only remain in it 
among such companions, or should have attached him- 
self with all his soul to those who had will and power 
to mend it. 

Clodius was at this moment the popular candidate 
for the asdileship, the second step on the road to the 
consulship. He was the favorite of the mob. He 
was supported by his brother Appius Claudius, the 
praetor, and the clientele of the great Claudian fam- 
ily ; and Cicero's denunciations of him had not af- 
fected in the least his chances of success. If Clo- 
dius was to be defeated, other means were needed 
than a statement in the Senate that the aspirant to 
public honors was a wretch unfit to live. The elec- 
tion was fixed for the 18th of November, and was to 
be held in the Campus Martins. Milo and his gladi- 
ators took possession of the polling-place in the night, 
and the votes could not be taken. The Assembly 
met the next day in the Forum, but was broken up 
by violence, and Clodius had still to wait. The po- 



Ptolemy Auletes. 263 

litical witch dance was at its height, and Cicero wag 
in his gloi'}'. " The elections," he wrote to Attlcus, 
*' will not, I think, be held ; and Clodius will be 
prosecuted by Milo unless he is first killed. Milo 
will kill him if he falls in with him. He is not 
afraid to do it, and he says openly that he will do it. 
He is not frightened at the misfortune which fell on 
me. He is not the man to listen to traitorous friends 
or to trust indolent patricians." ^ 

With recovered spirits the Senate began again to 
attack the laws of CcCsar and Clodius as irregular ; 
but they were met with the difficulty which Clodius 
had provided. Cato had come back from Cyprus, 
delighted with his exploit and with himself, and 
bringing a ship-load of money with him for the pub- 
lic treasury. If the laws were invalidated by the; 
disregard of Bibulus and the signs of tlie sky, then 
the Cyprus mission had been invalid also, and Cato's 
fine performance void. Caesar's grand victories, the 
news of which was now coming in, made it inoppor- 
tune to press the matter farther; and just then an- 
other subject rose, on which the Optiniates ran off 
like hounds upon a fresh scent. 

Ptolemy of Cyprus had been disposed of. Ptol- 
emy Auletes had been preserved on the throne of 
Egypt by subsidies to the chiefs of the Senate. But 
his subjects had been hardly taxed to raise the 
money. The Cyprus affair had further exasperated 
them, and when Ptolem}^ laid on fresh impositions 
the Alexandrians mutinied and drove him out. His 
misfortunes being due to his friends at Rome, he came 
thither to beg the Romans to replace him. The Sea- 
ate agreed unanimously that he must be restored to 
1 To Atticus, iv. 3. 



264 Ccesar. 

his throne. But then the question rose, who should 
be the happy person who was to be the instrument of 
his reinstatement ? Alexandria was rich. An enor- 
mous fine could be exacted for the rebellion, besides 
what might be demanded from Ptolemy's gratitude. 
No prize so splendid had yet been offered to Roman 
avarice, and the patricians quarrelled over it Hke jack- 
als over a bone. Lentulus Spinther, the late consul, 
was now governor of Cilicia ; Gabinius was governor 
of Syria ; and each of these had their advocates. Cic- 
ero and the respectable Conservatives were for Spin- 
ther ; Pompey was for Gabinius. Others wished 
Pompey himself to go ; others wished for Crassus. 

Meanwhile, the poor Egyptians themselves claimed 
a right to be heard in protest against the reimposi- 
tion upon them of a sovereign who had made himself 
abhorred. Why was Ptolemy to be forced on them ? 
A hundred of the principal Alexandrians came to 
Italy with a remonstrance ; a,nd had they brought 
money with them they might have had a respectful 
hearing. But they had brought none or not enough, 
and Ptolemy, secure in his patrons' support, hired a 
party of banditti, who set on the deputation when it 
landed, and killed the greater part of its members. 
Dion, the leader of the embassy, escaped for a time. 
There was still a small party among the aristocracy 
(Cato and Cato's followers) who had a conscience in 
Buch things ; and Favonius, one of them, took up 
Dion's cause. Envoys from allied sovereigns or 
provinces, he said, were continually being murdered. 
Noble lords received hush-money, and there had been 
no inquiry. Such things happened too often, and 
ought to be stopped. The Senate voted decently to 
Bejd for Dion and examine him. But Favonius was 



Clodius chosen ^dile* 265 

privately laughed at as " Cato's ape ; " the unfortu- 
nate Dion was made away with, and Pom- 

/ B. C. 56. 

pey took Ptolemy into his own house and 
openly entertained him there. Pompey would him- 
self perhaps have undertaken the restoration, but the 
Senate was jealous. His own future Avas growing 
uncertain ; and eventually, without asking for a con- 
sent which the Senate would have refused to give, he 
Bent his guest to Syria with a charge to his friend 
Gabinius to take him back on his own responsibility.^ 

The killing of envoys and the taking of hush- 
money by senators were, as Favonius had said, too 
common to attract much notice ; but the affair of 
Ptolemj^ like that of Jugurtha, had obtained an in- 
famous notoriety. The Senate was execrated. Pom- 
pe}^ himself fell in public esteem. His overseership 
of the granaries had as yet brought in no corn. He 
had been too busy over the Egyptian matter to at- 
tend to it. Clearly enough there would now have 
been a revolution in Rome, but for the physical force 
of the upper classes v/ith their bands of slaves and 
clients. 

The year of Milo's tribunate being over, Clodius 
was chosen aedile without further trouble ; and, in- 
stead of being the victim of a prosecution, he at once 
impeached Milo for the interruption of the Comitia 
on the 18th of November. Milo appeared to answer 
on the 2d of February ; but there was another riot, 
and the meeting was broken up. On the 6th the 

1 For the details of this story see Dion Cassius, lib xxxix. capp. 12-16. 
Compare Cicero ad Familiares^ lib. i. Epist. 1-2. Curious subterranean 
influences seem to have been at work to save the Senate from the infamy 
of restoring Ptolemy. Verses were discovered in the Sibylline Books di- 
recting that if au Egyptian king came to Rome as a suppliant, he was to 
^e entertained hospitably, but was to have no active help. Perhaps Cic- 
wo was concerned iu this. 



266 Ccesar. 

court was again held. The crowd was enormrus. 
Cicero happily has left a minute account of the scone. 
The people were starving, the corn question was 
pressing. Milo presented himself, and Porapey came 
forward on the Rostra to speak. He was received 
with howls and curses from Clodius's hired ruffians, 
and his voice could not be heard for the noise. Pom- 
pey held on undaunted, and commanded occasional 
silence by the weight of his presence. Clodius rose 
when P^ompey had done, and rival yells went up f^-ora 
the Milonians. Yells were not enough ; filthy verses 
were sung in chorus about Clodius and Clodia, ribald 
bestiality, delightful to the ears of '' Tully." Clo- 
dius, pale with anger, called out, *' Who is murdering 
the people with famine ? " A thousand throats an- 
swered, " Pompey ! " " Who wants to go t© Alexan- 
dria ? " " Pompey ! " they shouted again. "And 
whom do you want to go? " " Crassus! " they cried. 
Passion had risen too high for words. The Clodians 
began to spit on the Milonians. The Milonians drew- 
swords and cut the heads of the Clodians. The 
working men, being unarmed, got the worst of the 
conflict ; and Clodius was flung from the Rostra. 
The Senate was summoned to call Pompey to ac- 
count. Cicero went off home, v/ishing to defend 
Pompey, but wishing also not to offend the "good" 
party, who were cla-morous against him. That even- 
ing nothing could be done. Two days after, the Sen- 
ate met again ; Cato abused Pompey, and praised 
Cicero much against Cicero's will, who was anxious 
to stand well with Pompey. Pompey accused Cato 
and Crassus of a conspiracy to murder him. In fact. 
as Cicero said, Pompey had just then mo friend in 
any party. The mob was estranged from him, the 



Parties in Rome. 2C7 

noble lords hated him, the Senate did not like him, 
the patrician youth insulted him, and he was driven 
to bring up friends from the country to protect his 
life. All sides were mustering their forces in view 
of an impending figlit.^ 

It would be wasted labor to trace minutely the 
particulars of so miserable a scene, or the motives of 
the principal actors in it — Pompe}^ bound to Caesar 
by engagement and conviction, yet jealous of his 
growing fame, without political conviction of his own, 
and only conscious that his weight in the State no 
longer corresponded to his own estimate of his merits 

— Clodius at the head of the starving mob, repre- 
senting mere anarchy, and nourishing an implacable 
hate against Cicero — Cicero, anxious for his own 
safety, knowing now that he had made enemies of 
half the Senate, watching how the balance of factions 
would go, and dimly conscious that the sword would 
have to decide it, clinging, therefore, to Pompey, whose 
military abilities his civilian ignorance considered 
supereminent — Cato, a virtuous fanatic, narrow, pas- 
sionate, with a vein of vanity, regarding all ways as 
wrong but his own, and thinking all men who would 
not walk as he prescribed wicked as well as mistaken 

— the rest of the aristocracy scuffling for the plunder 
of Egypt, or engaged in other enterprises not more 
creditable — the streets given over to the factions — 
the elections the alternate prize of bribery or vio- 
lence, and consulates and praetorships falling to men 
more than half of whom, if Cicero can be but mod- 
erately believed, deserved to be crucified.. Cicero's 
main affection was for Titus Annius Milo, to whom 
be clang as a woman will cling to a man whose 

1 Ad Qu'ntum Fratrenij ii. 3. 



268 Coezar, 

strength she hopes will support her weakness. Milo, 
at least, would revenge his wrongs upon Clodius. 
Clodius, Cicero said even in the Senate, was Milo's 
predestined victim.^ Titus Annius knew how an 
armed citizen who burnt temples and honest men's 
houses ought to be dealt with. Titus Annius was 
born to extinguish that pest of the Common weal th.^ 

Still smarting over his exile, Cicero went one day 
with Milo a:nd his gladiators to the Capitol when 
Clodius was absent, and carried off the brass tablet 
on which the decree of his exile had been engraved. 
It was some solace to his poor vanity to destroy the 
record of his misfortune. But it was in vain. Ail 
was going wrong. Caesar's growing glories came 
thick to trouble his peace. He, after all, then, was 
not to be the greatest man in Rome. How would 
these splendid successes affect parties ? How would 
they affect Porapey? How would they affect the 
Senate ? What should he do himself ? 

The Senate distrusted him ; the people distrusted 
him. In his perplexity he tried to rouse the aristoc- 
racy to a sense of their danger, and hinted that his 
was the name which yet might save them. 

Sextius, who had been a tribune with Milo in th«> 
past year, was under prosecution for one of the innu- 
merable acts of violence which had disgraced tho 
city. Cicero defended him, and spoke at length on 
the state of affairs as he wished the world to believe 
that he regarded it. 

'' In the Commonwealth," he said, " there have al- 
ways been two parties — the populares and the opti- 
mates The populares say and do what will please the 

1 " Tito Annio devota et constituta hostia esse videtur." — De Haruspi" 
turn responsis. 
a Ibid. 



Cicero on the Situation. 269 

mob. The optimates say and do what will please the 
best men. And who are the best men ? They are 
of all ranks and infinite in number — senators, muni- 
cipals, farmers, men of business, even libertini. The 
type is distinct. They are the well-to-do, the sound, 
the honest, who do no wrong to any man. The ob- 
ject at which they aim is quiet with honor.^ They 
are the Conservatives of the State. Religion and 
good government, the Senate's, authority, the laws 
and customs of our ancestors, public faith, integrity, 
sound administration — these are the principles on 
which they rest, and these they will maintain with 
their lives. Their path is perilous. The foes of the 
State are stronger than its defenders ; they are bold 
and desperate, and go with a will to the work of de- 
struction ; while the good, I know not why, are lan- 
guid, and will not rouse themselves unless compelled. 
They would have quiet without honor, and so lose 
both quiet and honor. Some are triflers, some are 
timid, only a few stand firm. But it is not now as it 
was in the days of *the Gracchi. There have been 
great reforms. The people are conservative at heart ; 
the demagogues cannot rouse them, and are forced to 
pack the Assembly with hired gangs. Take away 
these gangs, stop corruption at the elections, and we 
shall be all of one mind. The people will be on our 
side. The citizens of Rome are not populares. They 
hate the populares, and prefer honorable men. How 
did they weep in the theatres where they heard the 
news that I was exiled ! How did they cheer my 
name ! ' Tully, the preserver of our liberties ! ' was 
repeated a thousand times. Attend to me," he said, 
turning paternally to the high-born youths who were 

i " Otium cum dignitate." 



270 Ccesar. 

listening to him, " attend to me. when I bid you walk 
in the ways of your forefathers. Would you have 
praise and honor, would you have the esteem of the 
wise and good, value the constitution under which you 
live. Our ancestors, impatient of kings, appointed 
annual magistrates, and for the administration they 
nominated a Senate chosen from the whole people 
into which the road is open for the poorest citizen." ^ 

So Cicero, trying to persuade others, and perhaps 
half persuading himself, that all might yet be well, 
and that the Roman Constitution would roll on upon 
its old lines in the face of the scandal of Ptolemy and 
the greater scandals of Clodius and Milo. 

Cicero might make speeches ; but events followed 
their inexorable course. The patricians had forgotten 
nothing and had learnt nothing. The Senate had 
voted thanksgivings for CiBsar's victories; but in 
their hearts they hated him more for them, because 
they feared him more. Milo and his gladiators gave 
them courage. Tlie bitterest of the aristocrats, Dom- 
itius Ahenobarbus, Cato's brother-in-law and praetor 
for the year, was a candidate for the consulship. 
His enormous wealth made his success almost cer- 
tain, and he announced in the Senate that he meant 
to recall Caisar and repeal his laws. In April a mo- 
tion was introduced in the Senate to revise Caesar's 
Land Act. Suspicions had gone abroad that Cicero 
believed Caesar's star to be in the ascendant, and that 
he was again wavering. To clear himself he spolje 
as passionately as Domitius could himself have wished, 
and declared that he honored more the resistance of 
Bibulus than all the triumphs in the world. It 
was time to come to an end with these gentlemen. 

1 Abridged from the Oratio pro Sextio. 



Pompey^ Ccesar^ and Crassus. 271 

Pompe}^ was deeply committed to Cassar's agrarian 
law, for it bad been passed primarily to provide 
for his own disbanded soldiers. He was the only 
man in Rome who retained any real authority ; and 
touched, as for a moment he might have been, with 
jeakmsy, he felt that honor, duty, every j^rinciple of 
prudence or patriotism, required him at so perilous 
a crisis to give Caesar his firm support. Clodius was 
made in some way to understand that, if he intended 
to retain his influence, he must conform to the wishes 
of the army. His brother, Appius, crossed the Alps 
to see Caesar himself ; and Csesar, after the troops 
were in their winter quarters, came over to the north 
of Italy. Here an interview was arranged between 
the chiefs of the popular party. The place of meet- 
ing was Lucca, on the frontier of Caesar's province. 
Pompey, who had gone upon a tour along the coast 
and through the Mediterranean islands on his corn 
business, attended without concealment or mystery. 
Crassus was present, and more than a hundred sena- 
tors. The talking power of the State was in Rome. 
The practical and real power was in the Lucca con- 
ference. Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus were irresisti- 
ble when heartily united, and a complete scheme was 
arranged between them for the government of the 
Empire. There was to be no Domitius Ahenobarbus 
for a consul, or aristocratic coups d'etat. Pompey and 
Crassus were to be consuls for the ensuing year. 
The consulship over, Pompey was to have Spain for 
a province for five years, with an adequate army. 
Crassus, who was ambitious also of military distinc- 
tion, was to have Syria. Csesar's command in Gaul 
was to be extended for five years further in addition 
to his present term. The consent of the Assembly 



272 Ccesar, 

was to be secured, if difficulty arose, by the votes of 
the army. The elections being in the winter, Caesar's 
soldiers were to be allowed to go to Rome on fur- 
lough. 

In a personal interview Caesar easily asserted his 
ascendency. Ponipey allowed himself to be guided, 
and the arrangement was probably dictated by Ce- 
sar's own prudence. He did not mean to leave Gaul 
half conquered, to see his work undone, and himself 
made into a plaything by men who had incited Ario- 
vistus to destroy him. The senators who were pres- 
ent at Lucca implied by their cooperation that they 
too were weary of anarchy, and would sustain the army 
in a remodelling of the State if milder measures 
failed. 

Thus, for the moment, Domitius and Cato were 
baffled. Domitius was not to be consul. Csesar was 
not to be recalled, or his laws repealed. There was 
no hope for them or for the reaction, till Pompey and 
Csesar could be divided ; and their alliance was closer 
now than ever. The aristocratic party could but 
chafe in impotent rage. The effect on Cicero was 
curious. He had expected that the Conservative 
movement would succeed, and he had humiliated 
himself before the Senate, in the idle hope of winning 
back their favor. The conference at Lucca opened 
his eyes. For a time at least he perceived that Cse- 
sar's was the winning side, and he excused himself for 
going over to it by laying the blame on the Senate's 
folly and ingratitude to himself. Some private cor- 
respondence preceded his change of sides. He con- 
sulted Atticus, and had received characteristic and 
cautious advice from him. He described in reply his 
internal struggles, the resolution at which he had ar- 



Cicero goes over to Ccesar. 273 

rived, and the conclusion which he had formed upon 
his own past conduct. 

*' I am chewing what I have to swallow," he said. 
" Recantation does not seem very creditable ; but 
adieu to straightforward, honest counsels. You would 
not believe the perfidy of these chiefs ; as they wish 
to be, and what they might be if they had any faith 
in them. I had felt, I had known, that I was being 
led on by them, and then deserted and cast off ; and 
yet I thought of making common cause with them. 
They were the same which they had always been. 
You made me see the truth at last. You will say you 
warned me. You advised what I should do, and you 
told me not to write to Caesar. By Hercules ! I wished 
to put myself in a position where I should be obliged 
to enter into this new coalition, and where it would 
not be possible for me, even if I desired it, to go with 
those who ought to pity me, and, instead of pity, give 
me grudging and envy. I have been moderate in 
what I have written. I shall be more full if Csesar 
meets me gi-aciously ; and then those gentlemen who 
are so jealous that I should have a decent house to 

live in will make a wry face Enough of this. 

Since those who have no power will not be my friends, 
1 must endeavor to make friends with those who 
have. You will say you wished this long ago. I 
know that you wished it, and that I have been a mere 
ass ; ^ but it is time for me to be loved by myself, 
since I can get no love from them.^ 

Pompey, after leaving Lucca, sent Cicero a message, 
through his brother, complaining of his speech on the 

1 "Me germanum asinum fuisse." Perhaps "own brother to jin ass " 
1K)uld be a more proper rendering. 
« To Atticus, iv. 5. 

18 



274 Coesar. 

Land Act, but assuring him of his own and Caesar's 
friendship if he would now be true to them. In an 
apologetic letter to Lentulus Spinther, Cicero ex- 
plained and justified what he meant to do. 

" Pompey," he said, " did not let me know that he 
was offended. He went off to Sardinia, and on his 
way saw Csesar at Lucca. XJsesar was angry with 
me; he had seen Crassus, and Crassus had prejudiced 
him. Pompey, too, was himself displeased. He met 
my brother a few days after, and told him to use his 
influence with me. He reminded him of his exertions 
in my behalf ; he swore that those exertions had been 
made with Caesar's consent, and he begged particu- 
larly that, if I could not support Caesar, I would not 
go against him. I reflected. I debated the matter 
as if with the Commonwealth. I had suffered much 
and done much for the Commonwealth. I had now 
to think of myself. I had been a good citizen ; I 
must, now be a good man. Expressions came round 
to me that had been used b}^ certain persons whom 
even you do not like. They were delighted to think 
that I had offended Pompey, and had made Caesar 
my mortal enemy. This was annoying enough. But 
the same persons embraced and kissed even in my 
presence my worst foe — the foe of law, order, peace, 
country, and every good man."^ .... They meant 
to irritate me, but I had not spirit to be angry. I 
tiurveyed my situation, I cast up my accounts ; and 
I came to a conclusion, which was briefly this. If 
the State was in the hands of bad men, as in my time 
I have known it to be, I would not join them though 
they loaded me with favors; but when the first per- 
son in the Commonwealth was Pompey, whose serv- 

1 Clodius. 



Cicero's Explanations, 275 

ices had been so eminent, whose advancement I had 
myself furtliered, and who stood by me in my difficul- 
ties, I was not inconsistent if I modified some of my 
opinions, and conformed to the wishes of one who has 
deserved so well of me. If I went with Pompey, I 
must go with Caesar too ; and here the old friendship 
came to bear between Geesar, my brother, and myself, 
as well as Cesar's kindness to me, of which I had 
seen evidence in word and deed Public inter- 
est, too, moved me. A quarrel with these men would 
be most inexpedient, especially after what Csesar has 

done If the persons who assisted in bringing 

me back had been my friends afterwards, they would 
have recovered their power when they had me to help 
them. The 'good' had gained heart when you were 
consul. Pompey was then won to the * good ' cause. 
Even Caesar, after being decorated by the Senate for 
his victories, might have been brought to a better 
judgment, and wicked citizens would have had no 
opening to make disturbances. But what happened ? 
These very men protected Clodius, who cared no 
more for the Bona Dea than for the Three Sisters. 
They allowed my monument to be engraved with a 
hostile record.^ .... The good party are not as 
you left them. Those who ought to have been staunch 
have fallen away. You see it in their faces. You see 
.'t in the words and votes of those whom we called 
' optimates ; ' so that wise citizens, one of whom I 
wish to be and to be thought, must change their 
■•ourse. ' Persuade your country-men, if you can,' 
said Plato ; ' but use no violence.' Plato found that 
he could no longer persuade the Athenians, and there- 
fore he withdrew from public life. Advice could not 

^ Here follows much about himself and his own merits. 



276 Ccesar. 

move them, and he held force to be unlawful. My 
case was different. I was not called on to undertake 
public responsibilities. I was content to further my 
own interests, and to defend honest men's causes. 
Csesar's goodness to me and to my brother would 
have bound me to him whatever had been his fort- 
unes. Now after so much glory and victory I should 
Bpeak nobly of him though I owed him nothing." ^ 

Happy it would have been for Cicero, and happy 
for Rome, had he persevered in the course which he 
now seemed really to have chosen. Cicero and Csesar 
united might have restored the authority of the laws, 
punished corruption and misgovern ment, made their 
country the mother as well as the mistress of the 
world ; and the Republic, modified to suit the change 
of times, might have survived for many generations. 
But under such a modification Cicero would have no 
longer been the first person in the Commonwealth. 
The talkers would have ceased to rule, and Cicero 
"was a talker only. He could not bear to be subordi- 
nate. He was persuaded that he, and not Csesar, was 
the world's real great man ; and so he held on, leaning 
now to one faction and now to another, waiting for 
the chance which was to put him at last in his true 
place. For the moment, however, he saved himself 
from the degradation into which the Senate precipi- 
tated itself. The arrangements at Lucca were the 
work of the army. The Conservative majority re- 
fused to let the army dictate to them. Domitius in- 
iended still to be consul, let the army say what it 
oleased. Pompey and Crassus returned to Rome for 

1 To Lentulus Spinther, Ad Familiares, i. 9. The length of this remark- 
able letter obliges me to give but an imperfect summary of it. The letter 
itseh should be studied carefully by those who would understand Cicero's 
conduct. 



Pompey and Crassus Consuls. 277 

the elections; the consuls for the year, Marcellinus 
and Philip, declined to take their names. The con- 
suls and the Senate appealed to the Assembly, the 
Senate marching into the Forum in state, as if calling 
on the genius of the nation to defend the outraged 
constitution. In vain. The people would not listen. 
The Consuls were groaned down. No genius of Rome 
presided in those meetings, but the genius of revolu- 
tion in the person of Clodius. The senators were 
driven back into the Curia, and Clodius followed them 
there. The officers forbade his entrance. Furious 
young aristocrats flew upon him, seized him, and 
would have murdered him in their rage. Clodius 
shrieked for help. His rascal followers rushed in with 
lighted torches, swearing to burn house and Senate if 
a hair of Clodius's head were hurt. They bore their 
idol off in triumph ; and the wretched senators sat 
gazing at each other, or storming at Pompey, and in- 
quiring scornfully if he and Crassus intended to ap- 
point themselves consuls. Pompey answered that 
they had no desire for office, but anarchy must be 
brought to an end. 

Still the consuls of the year stubbornly refused to 
take the names of the Lucca nominees. The year ran 
out, and no election had been held. In such a diffi- 
culty, the constitution had provided for the appoint- 
ment of an Interrex till fresh consuls could be chosen. 
Pompey and Crassus were then nominated, with a 
foregone conclusion. Domitius still persisted in stand- 
ing ; and, had it been safe to try the usual methods, 
the patricians would have occupied the voting places 
IS before with their retinues, and returned him by 
force. But young Publius Crassus was in Rome with 
thousands of Caesar's soldiers, who had come up to 



278 Ccesar, 

vote from the north of Italy. With these it was not 
safe to venture on a conflict, and the consulships fell 
as the Lucca conference had ordered. 

The consent of the Assembly to the other arrange- 
ments remained to be obtained. Caesar was to have 
five additional years in Gaul ; Pompey and Crassus 
were to have Spain and Syria, also for five years each, 
as soon as their year of office should be over. The 
defenders of the constitution fought to the last. Cato 
foamed on the Rostra. When the two hours, allowed 
him to speak, were expired, he refused to 
sit down, and was removed by a guard. 
The meeting was adjourned to the next day. Pub- 
lius Gallus, another irreconcilable, passed the night 
in the Senate-house, that he might be in his place at 
dawn. Cato and Favonius were again at their posts. 
The familiar cry was raised that the signs of the sky 
were unfavorable. The excuse had ceased to be legal. 
The tribunes ordered the voting to go forward. The 
last resource was then tried. A riot began, but to 
no purpose. The aristocrats and their clients were 
beaten back, and the several commands were ratified. 
As the people were dispersing, their opponents rallied 
back, filled the Forum, and were voting Caesar's re- 
call, when Pompey came on them and swept them 
out. Gallus was carried off covered with blood ; and, 
to prevent further question, the vote for Csesar was 
taken a second time. 

The immediate future was thus assured. Time had 
been obtained for the completion of the work in Gaul. 
Pompey dedicated a new theatre, and delighted the 
mob with games and races. Five hundred lions were 
consumed in five days of combat. As a special nov- 
elty eighteen elephants were made to fight with sol- 



A Spectacle in the Amphitheatre, 279 

diers ; and, as a yet more extraordinary plienomenon, 
the sanguinary Roman spectators showed signs of 
compunction at their sufferings. The poor beasts 
were quiet and harmless. When wounded with the 
lances, they turned away, threw up their trunks, and 
trotted round the circus, crying, as if in protest 
against wanton cruelty. The story went that they 
were half human; that they had been seduced en 
board the African transports by a promise that they 
should not be ill-used, and they were supposed to be 
appealing to the gods.^ Cicero alludes to the scene 
in a letter to one of his friends. Mentioning Pora- 
pey's exhibitions with evident contempt, he adds : 
" There remained the hunts, which lasted five days. 
All say that they were very fine. But what pleasure 
can a sensible person find in seeing a clumsy performer 
torn by a wild beast, or a noble animal pierced with 
a hunting spear? The last day was given to the ele- 
phants ; not interesting to me, however delightful to 
the rabble. A certain pity was felt for them, as if 
the elephants had some affinity with man." ^ 

1 Dian Cassius. 2 ^df FamUiares, vii. 1. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

While Csesar was struggling with the Senate for 
leave to complete the conquest of Gaul, fresh 
work was preparing for him there. Young 
Publius Crassus, before he went to Italy, had win- 
tered with the seventh legion in Brittany. The 
Breton tribes had nominally made their submission, 
and Crassus had desired them to supply his com- 
missariat. They had given hostages -for their good 
behavior, and most of them were ready to obey. 
The Veneti, the most important of the coast clans, 
refused. They induced the rest to join them. They 
seized the Roman officers whom Crassus had sent 
among them, and they then offered to exchange their 
prisoners for their countrymen whom the Romans 
held in pledge. The legions might be irresistible on 
and ; but the Veneti believed that their position 
was impregnable to an attack on the land side. 
Their homes were on the Bay of Quiberon and on 
the creeks and estuaries between the mouth of the 
Loire and Brest. Their villages were built on prom- 
ontories, cut off at high tide from the mainland, 
approachable only by water, and not by water except 
in shallow vessels of small draught which could be 
grounded safely on the mud. The population were 
sailors and fishermen. They were ingenious and in- 
dustrious, and they carried on a considerable trade in 
the Bay of Biscay and in the British Channel. They 
had ships capable of facing the heavy seas which 



The Ve7ietL 281 

rolled in from the Atlantic, flat-bottomed, with high 
bow and stern, built solidly of oak, with timbers a 
foot thick, fastened with large iron nails. . They had 
iron chains for cables. Their sails — either because 
sailcloth was scarce, or because they thought canvas 
too weak for the strain of the winter storms — were 
manufactured out of leather. Such vessels were un- 
wieldly, but had been found available for voyages 
even to Britain. Their crews were accustomed to 
handle them, and knew all the rocks and shoals and 
currents of the intricate and difiicult harbors. They 
looked on the Romans as mere landsmen, and natu- 
rally enough they supposed that they had as little to 
fear from an attack by water as from the shore. At 
the worst they could take to their ships and find a 
refuge in the islands. 

Crassus, when he went to Rome, carried the report 
to CjBsar of the revolt of the Veneti, and Cassar felt 
that unless they were promptly punished all Gaul 
might be again in flame. They had broken faith. 
They had imprisoned Roman officers who had gone 
on a peaceful mission among them. It was necessary 
to teach a people so restless, so hardly conquered, and 
BO impatient of foreign dominion, that there was no 
situation which the Roman arm was unable to reach. 

While the Lucca conference was going on, a fleet 
of Roman galleys was built by his order in the Loire. 
Rowers, seamen, and pilots were brought across from 
Marseilles ; when the season was sufiiciently ad- 
vanced for active operations, CiBsar came himself 
and rejoined his army. Titus Labienus was sent 
with three legions to Treves to check the Germans 
on the Rhine, and prevent disturbances among the 
Belgag. Titurius Sabinus, with three more, was 



282 Ccesar. 

stationed in Normandy. To Brittany Csesar went iu 
person to reduce the rebellious Veneti. The weathei 
was too unsettled for his fleet to be able as yet to join 
him. Without its help he found the problem as difii- 
cult as the Veneti expected. Each village required 
a siege ; when it was reduced, the inhabitants took 
to their boats, and defied him again in a new posi- 
tion. Many weeks were thus fruitlessly wasted* 
The fine weather at length set in. The galleys from 
the Loire came out, accompanied by others from 
Rochelle and the mouth of the Garonne. The com- 
mand at sea was given to Decimus Brutus, a cousin 
of the afterwards famous Marcus, a clever, able, and 
so far loyal officer. 

The Veneti had collected every ship that they or 
their allies possessed to defend themselves. They 
had two hundred and twenty sail in all — a force, con- 
sidering its character, extremely formidable. Their 
vessels were too strong to be run down. The galleys 
carried turrets ; but the bows and sterns of the 
Veneti were still too lofty to be reached effectively 
by the Roman javelins. The Romans had the advan- 
tage in speed ; but that was all. They too, however, 
had their ingenuities. They had studied the con- 
struction of the Breton ships. They had provided 
sickles with long handles, with which they proposed to 
catch the halyards which held the weight of the 
heavy leather sails. It was not difficult to do, if, as 
is probable, the halyards were made fast, not to the 
mast, but to the gunwale. Sweeping rapidly along- 
side they could easily cut them ; the sails would fall, 
and the vessels would be unmanageable. 

A sea battle of this singular kind was thus fought 
off the eastern promontory of the Bay of Quiberon ; 



Normandy and Aquitaine reduced, 283 

Caesar and bis army looking on from the shore. The 
sickles answered well ; ship after ship was disabled ; 
the galleys closed with them, and they were taken by 
boarding. The Veneti then tried to retreat ; but a 
calm came on, and they could not move. The fight 
lasted from ten in the morning till sunset, when the 
entire Breton fleet was taken or sunk. 

After this defeat the Veneti gave up the struggle. 
Their ships were all gone. Their best men were on 
board, and had been killed. They had no power of 
resistance left. Cassar was constitutionally lenient, 
and admired rather than resented a valiant fight for 
freedom. But the Veneti had been treacherous. 
They had laid hands on the sacred persons of Roman 
ambassadors, and he considered it expedient on this 
one occasion to use severity. The council who had 
contrived the insurrection were put to death. The 
rest of the tribe were treated as the Aduatuci had 
been, and were sold into slavery. 

Sabinus, meanwhile, had been in difficulties in 
Normandy. The people there had risen and killed 
their chiefs, who tried to keep them quiet; vagabonds 
from other parts had joined them, and Sabinus, who 
wanted enterprise, allowed the disturbances to be- 
come dangerous. He ended them at last, however, 
successfully, and Caesar would not allow his caution 
to be blamed. During the same months, Publius 
Crassus had made a brilliant campaign in Aquitaine. 
The Aquitani had not long before overthrown two 
Roman armies. Determined not to submit to Caesar, 
they had allied themselves with the Spaniards of the 
Pyrenees, and had officers among them who had been 
trained by Sertorius. Crassus stormed their camp 
with a skill and courage which called out Cssar'a 



284 Ccesar, 

highest approbation, and completely subdued the 
whole country. 

In all France there now remained only a few unim- 
portant tribes on the coast between Calais and the 
Scheldt which had not formally submitted. The 
summer being nearly over, Caesar contented himself 
with a hasty survey of their frontier. The weather 
broke up earlier than usual, and the troops were re- 
distributed in their quarters. Again there had been 
a year of unbroken success. The Romans were mas- 
ters of Gaul, and the admirable care of their com- 
mander had preserved the numbers in his legions 
almost undiminished. The smallness of the loss with 
which all these wonders were accomplished is per- 
haps the most extraordinary feature of the story. 
Not till a year later is there any notice of fresh re- 
cruits being brought from Italy. 

The winter which followed brought with it another 
of the dangerous waves of German immigra- 
tion. The powerful Suevi, a nation of war- 
riors who cultivated no lands, who wore no clothes 
but a deer or sheep skin, who lived by hunting and 
pasture, despised the restraints of stationary life, and 
roved at pleasure into their neighbors' territories, 
were pressing on the weaker tribes and forcing them 
down into the low countries. The Belgians, hoping 
for their help against the Romans, had invited these 
tribes over the Rhine ; and, untaught by the fate of 
Ariovistus, they were crossing over and collecting in 
enormous numbers above the junction of the Rhine 
and the Meuse. Into a half-peopled countr^^, large 
portions of which are lying waste, it might be bar- 
barous to forbid an immigration of harmless and per- 
secuted strangers ; but if these Germans were perse- 



Second Grerman Invasion. 285 

cuted, they were certainly not harmless ; they had 
come at the instance of the party in Gaul vvliich was 
determined to resist the Roman conquest, and unless 
the conquest was to be abandoned, necessity required 
that the immigration must be prohibited. When the 
advance of spring allowed the troops to move, Caesar 
called a council of Gallic chiefs. He said nothing of 
the information which had reached him respecting 
their correspondence with these new invaders, but 
with his usual swiftness of decision he made up his 
mind to act without waiting for disaffection to show 
itself. He advanced at Once to the Ardennes, where 
he was met by envoys from the German camp. They 
Baid that they had been expelled from their country, 
and had come to Gaul in search of a home ; they did 
not wish to quarrel with the Romans ; if Caesar would 
protect them and give them lands, they promised to 
be useful to him ; if he refused their alliance, tliey 
declared that they would defend themselves. They 
had fled before the Sueves, for the Sueves were the 
first nation in the world ; the immortal gods were not 
a match for the Sueves ; but they were afraid of no 
one else, and Caesar might choose whether he would 
have them for friends or foes. 

Caesar replied that they must not stay in Gaul. 
There were no unoccupied lands in Gaul which could 
receive so vast a multitude. The Ubii^ on their own 
side of the Rhine were allies of the Romans ; the 
Ubii, he was willing to undertake, would provide for 
them; meanwhile they must go back; he would 
listen to no other conditions. The envoys departed 
with their answer, begging Csesar to advance no far- 
ther till he had again heard from them. This could 
1 Nassau and Darmstadt. 



286 Ccesar, 

not be granted. The interval would be employed in 
communicating with the Gauls. Caesar pushed on, 
crossed the Meuse at Maestricht, and descended the 
river to Venloo, where he was but twelve miles dis- 
tant from the German headquarters. Again messen- 
gers came, asking for time — time, at; least, till they 
could learn whether the Ubii would receive them. 
If the Ubii were favorable, they said that they were 
ready to go; but they could not decide without a 
knowledge of what was to become of them. They 
asked for a respite, if only for three days. 

Three days meant only leisure to collect their scat- 
tered detachments, that they might make a better 
fight. Caesar gave them twenty-four hours. 

The two armies were so near that their front lines 
were in sight of each other. Caesar had given orders 
to his ofl&cers not to meddle with the Germans. But 
the Germans, being undisciplined and hot-blooded, 
were less easy to be restrained. A large body of 
them flung themselves on the Roman advanced guard, 
and drove it in with considerable loss ; seventy-four 
Roman knights fell, and two Aquitanian noblemen, 
brothers, serving under Caesar, were killed in defend- 
ing each other. 

Caesar was not sorry for an excuse to refuse further 
parley. The Germans were now scattered. In a 
day or two they would be united again. He knew 
the effect which would be produced on the restless 
minds of the Gauls by the news of a reverse however 
slight ; and if he delayed longer he feared that the 
country might be on fire in his rear. On the morn- 
ing which followed the first a,ction, the principal Ger- 
man chiefs appeared to apologize and to ask for a 
kuoe. They had come in of their own accord. They 



Defeat of the G-ermans. 287 

had not applied for a safe conduct, and war had been 
began by their own people. They were detained as 
prisoners; and, marching rapidly over the sliort space 
which divided the camps, Crasar flung hiniseli on the 
unfortunate people when they were entirely unpre- 
pared for the attack. Their chiefs were gone. They 
were lying about in confusion beside their wagons, 
women and children dispersed among the men ; hun- 
dreds of thousands of human creatures, ignorant 
where to turn for orders, and uncertain whether to 
fight or fly. In this condition the legions burst in on 
them, furious at what they called the treachery of 
the previous day, and merciless in their vengeance. 
The poor Germans stood bravely defending them- 
selves as the}^ could ; but the sight of their women 
flying in shrieking crowds, pursued by the Roman 
horse, was too much for them, and the whole host 
were soon rushing in despairing wreck down the nar- 
rowing isthmus between the Meuse and the Rhine, 
They came to the junction at last, and then they 
could go no further. Multitudes were slaughtered ; 
multitudes threw themselves into the water and were 
drowned. Caisar, who was not given to exaggera- 
tion, says that their original number was 430,000. 
The only survivors, of whom any clear record re- 
mains, were the detachments who were absent from 
the battle, and the few chiefs who had come into 
Ciesar's camp and continued with him at their own 
request from fear of being murdered by the Gauls. 

This afi^air was much spoken of at the time, as well 
it might be. Questions were raised upon it in tho 
Senate. Cato insisted that Ccesar had massacred a 
♦defenceless people in a time of truce, that he lia«l 
broken the law of nations, and that he ought to be 



288 CcBsar, 

given up to the Germans. The sweeping off tlie 
earth in such a manner of a quarter of a million hu- 
man creatures, even in those unscrupulous times, 
could not be heard of without a shudder. 1 he irrita- 
tion in the Senate can hardly be taken as disinter- 
ested. Men who had intrigued with Ariovistus for 
Csesar's destruction, needed not to be credited with 
feelings of pure humanity' when they made the most 
of the opportunity. But an opportunity had un- 
doubtedly been offered them. The rights of war 
have their limits. No living man in ordinary circum- 
stances recognized those limits more than Caesar did. 
No commander was more habitually merciful in vic- 
tory. In this case the limits had been ruthlessly ex- 
ceeded. The Germans were not indeed defending 
their own country ; they were the invaders of an- 
other ; but they were a fine brave race, overtaken by 
fate when doing no more than their forefathers had 
done for unknown generations. The excuse for their 
extermination was simply this : that Csesar had un- 
dertaken the conquest of Gaul for the defence of 
Italy. A powerful party among the Gauls them- 
selves were content to be annexed to the Roman Em- 
pire. The patriots looked to the Germans to help 
them in driving out the Romans. The Germanizing 
of Gaul would lead with certainty to fresh invasions 
of Italy; and it seemed permissible, and even neces- 
sary, to put a stop to these immigrations once for all, 
and to show Gauls and Germans equally that they 
were not to be. 

It was not enough to have driven the Germans 
out of Gaul. Csesar respected their character. He 
admired their abstinence from wine, their courage, 
their frugal habits, and their pure morality. But 



Invasion of Germany, 289 

their virtues made tliem only more dangeious ; and 
be desired to show them that the Roman arm was 
long and could reach them even in their own homes. 
Parties of the late invaders had returned over the 
Rhine, and were protected by the Sigambri in West- 
phalia. Caesar had demanded their surrender, and 
the Sigambri had answered that Roman authority 
did not reach across the river ; if Caesar forbade Ger- 
mans to cross into Gaul, the Germans would not 
allow the Romans to dictate to them in their own 
country. The Ubii were growing anxious. They 
were threatened by the Sueves for deserting the na- 
tional cause. They begged Csesar to show himself 
among them, though his stay might be but short, as 
a proof that he had power and will to protect them ; 
and they offered him boats and barges to carry his 
army over. Caesar decided to go, but to go with 
more ostentation. The object was to impress the 
German imagination ; and boats and barges which 
might not always be obtainable would, if they seemed 
essential, diminish the effect. The legions were skilled 
workmen, able to turn their hand to anything. He 
determined to make a bridge; and he chose Bonn for 
the site of it. The river was broad, deep, and rapid. 
The materials were still standing in the forest ; yet 
in ten days from the first stroke that was delivered 
by an axe, a bridge had been made standing firmly 
on rows of piles with a road over it forty feet wide. 
A strong guard was left at each end. Caesar marched 
across with the legions, and from all sides deputations 
from the astonished people poured in to beg for peace. 
The Sigambri had fled to their woods. The Suevi 
fell back into the Thuringian forests. He burnt the 
villages of the Sigambri, to leave the print of hi 

19 



290 Qcesar, 

presence. He paid the Ubii a long visit ; and after 
remaining eighteen days beyond the river, he con- 
sidered that his purpose had been gained, and he re-_ 
turned to Gaul, destroying the bridge behind hira. 

It was now about the beginning of August. A few- 
weeks only of possible fine weather remained. Gaul 
was quiet, not a tribe was stirring. The people were 
stunned by Caesar's extraordinary performances. 
West of the Chrainel which washed the shores of the 
Belgse, lay an island where the enemies of Rome had 
found shelter, and from which help had been sent to 
the rebellious Bretons. Csesar, the most skilful and 
prudent of generals, was yet adventurous as a knight 
errant. There was still time for a short expedition 
into Britain. As yet nothing was known of that 
countr}?-, save the white cliffs Avhich could be seen 
from Calais ; Roman merchants occasionally touched 
there, but they had never ventured into the interior; 
they could give no information as to the size of the 
island, the qualities of the harbors, the character or 
habits of the inhabitants. Complete ignorance of 
such near neighbors was undesirable and inconven- 
ient; and Caesar wished to look at them with his 
own eyes. The fleet which had been used in the war 
with the Veneti was sent round into the Channel. 
He directed Caius Volusenus, an officer whom he 
could trust, to take a galley and make a survey of 
the opposite coast, and he himself followed to Bou- 
logne, where his vessels were waiting for him. The 
gathering of the flotilla and its object had been re- 
ported to Britain, and envoys from various tribes 
were waiting there with offers of hostages and hum- 
ble protestations. Caesar i^eceived them graciously, 
and sent back with them a Gaul, named Commius, 



First Expedition into Britain, 291 

wliom he had made chief of tlie Atrebates, to tell 
the people that he was coming over as a friend, and 
that they had nothing to fear. 

Volusenas returned after five days' absence, having 
been unable to gather anything of importance. The 
ships which had come in were able only to take across 
two legions, probably at less than, their full comple- 
ment — or at most ten thousand men ; but for Cse- 
ar's present purpose these were sufficient. Leaving 
kbinus and Cotta in charge of the rest of the army, 
le sailed on a calm evening, and was off Dover in the 
norning. The cliffs were lined with painted war- 
•iors, and hung so close over the water that if he at- 
empted to land there stones and lances could reach 
he boats from the edge of the precipice. He called 
lis officers about him while his fleet collected, and 
.aid a few encouraging words to them ; he then moved 
ip the coast with the tide, apparently as far as Wal- 
ner or Deal. Here the beach was open and the water 
leep near the land. The Britons had followed by 
the brow^f the cliff, scrambling along with their cars 
and horses. The shore was covered with them, and 
they evidently meant to fight. The transports an- 
chored where the water was still up to the men's 
shoulders. They were incumbered with their arms, 
and did not like the look of what was before them. 
Seeing them hesitate, Caesar sent his armed galleys 
filled with archers and crossbowmen to clear the ap- 
proach ; and as the legionaries still hesitated, an offi- 
cer who carried the eagle of the 10th leapt into the 
sea and bade his comrades follow if they wished to 
save their standard. They sprang overboard with a 
general cheer. The Britons rode their horses into 
the waves to meet them ; and for a few minutes the 



292 Ccesar. 

Romans could make no progress. Boats came to 
their help, which kept back the most active of their 
opponents, and once on land they were in their own 
element. The Britons galloped off, and Caesar had 
no cavalry. 

A camp was then formed. Some of the ships were 
left at anchor, others were brought on shore, and were 
hauled up to the usual high-water mark. Commius 
came in with deputations, and peace was satisfactorily 
arranged. All went well till the fourth day, when 
the full moon brought the spring tide, of which the 
llomans had no experience and had not provided for 
it. Heavy weather came up along with it. The gal- 
leys on the beach were floated off ; the transports at 
anchor parted their cables ; some were driven on shore, 
some out into the Channel. Csesar was in real anx- 
iety. He had no means of procuring a second fleet. 
He had made no preparations for wintering in Britain. 
The legions had come light, without tents or baggage, 
as he meant to stay no longer than he had done in 
Germany, two or three weeks at most. Skill and 
energy repaired the damage. The vessels which had 
gone astray were recovered. Those which were least 
injured were repaired with the materials of the rest. 
Twelve only were lost, the others were made sea- 
worthy. 

The Britons, as Caesar expected, had taken heart at 
the disaster. They broke their agreement, and fell 
upon his outposts. Seeing the small number of Ro- 
mans, they collected in force, in the hope that if they 
could destroy the first comers no more such unwelcome 
visitors would ever arrive to trouble them. A sharp 
action taught them their mistake ; and after many of 
the poor creatures had been killed, they brought in 



Naval Preparations, 293 

hostages, and again begged for peace. Tlie equinox 
was now coming on. The weather was again threat- 
ening. Postponing, therefore, further inquiries into 
the nature of the British and their country, Ca?sar 
used the first favorable opportunity, and returned, 
without further adventure, to Boulogne. The legions 
were distributed among the Belgse; and Caesar him- 
self, who could have no rest, hastened oyer the Alps, 
to deal with other disturbances which had broken out 
in Illyria. 

The bridge over the Rhine and the invasion of a 
country so remote that it was scarcely be- 

. B. C. 54. 

lieved to exist, roused the enthusiasm at " ' ' 
Rome beyond the point which it had hitherto reached. 
The Roman populace was accustomed to victories, but 
these were portents like the achievements of the old 
demigods. The humbled Senate voted twenty days 
of thanksgiving ; and faction, controlled by Pompey, 
was obliged to be silent. 

The Illyrian troubles were composed without fight- 
ing, and the interval of winter was spent in prepara- 
tions for a renewal of the expedition into Britain on 
a larger scale. Orders had been left with the officers 
in command to prepare as many transports as the 
time would allow, broader and lower in the side for 
greater convenience in loading and unloading. In 
April, Caesar returned. He visited the different sta- 
tions, and he found that his expert legionaries, work- 
ing incessantly, had built six hundred transports and 
twenty-eight armed galleys. All these were finished 
and ready to be launched. He directed that they 
should collect at Boulogne as before ; and in the in- 
terval he paid a visit to the north of Gaul, where 
there were rumors of fresh correspondence with the 



294 Ccemr. 

Germans. Danger, if danger tliere was, was threat- 
ened by the Treveri, a powerful tribe still unbroken 
on the Moselle. CaBsar, however, had contrived to 
attach the leading chiefs to the Roman interest. He 
found nothing to alarm him, and once more went 
down to the sea. In his first venture he had been 
embarrassed by want of cavalry. He was by this 
time personally acquainted with the most influential 
of the Gallic nobles. He had requested them to at- 
tend him into Britain with their mounted retinues, 
both for service in the field and that he might keep 
these restless chiefs under his eye. Among the rest 
he had not overlooked the jEduan prince, Dumnorix, 
whose intrigues had brought the Helvetii out of Switz- 
erland, and whose treachery had created difficulty 
and nearly disaster in the first campaign. Dumnorix 
had not forgotten his ambition. He had affected 
penitence, and he had been treated with kindness. 
He had availed himself of the favor which had been 
shown to him to pretend to his countrymen that Cae- 
sar had promised him the chieftainship. He had peti- 
tioned earnestly to be excused from accompanying the 
expedition, and, Csesar having for this reason prob- 
ably the more insisted upon it, he had persuaded the 
other chiefs that Csesar meant to destroy them, and 
that if they went to Britain they would never return. 
These whisperings were reported to Csesar. Dum- 
norix had come to Boulogne with the rest, and he or- 
dered him to be watched. A long westerly wind had 
prevented Caesar from embarking as soon as he had 
wished. The weather changed at last, and the troops 
were ordered on board. Dumnorix slipped away in 
the contusion with a party of ^duan horse, and it 
was now certain that he had sinister intentions. The 



Second Invasion of Britain. 295 

embarkation was suspended. A detaclinient of cav- 
alry was sent in pursuit, with directions to bring 
Dumnorix back dead or alive. Dumnorix resisted, 
and was killed. 

No disturbance followed on his death. The re- 
maining chiefs were loyal, or wished to appear loyal, 
and further delay was unnecessary. Labienus, whom 
Caesar thoroughly trusted, remained behind with three 
legions and two thousand horse to watch over Gaul ; 
and on a fine summer evening, with a light air from 
the south, CiSsar sailed at sunset on the 20th of July. 
He had five legions with him. He had as many cav- 
alry as h^ had left with Labienus. His flotilla, swol- 
len by volunteers, amounted to eight hundred vessels, 
small and great. At sunrise they were in midchan- 
nel, lying in a dead calm, with the cliffs of Britain 
plainly visible on their left hand. The tide was flow- 
ing. Oars were out; the legionaries worked with 
such enthusiasm that the transports kept abreast of 
the war galleys. At noon they had reached the beach 
at Deal, where this time they found no enemy to op- 
pose their landing; the Britons had been terrified at 
the multitude of ships and boats in which the power 
of Rome was descending on them, and had fled into 
the interior. The water was smooth, the disembark- 
ation easy. A camp was drawn out and intrenched, 
and six thousand men, with a few hundred horse, 
were told off to guard it. The fleet was left riding 
quietly at anchor, the pilots ignorant of the meaning 
of the treacherous southern air which had been so 
welcome to them ; and Csesar advanced inland as far 
as the Stour. The Britons, after an unsuccessful 
stand to prevent the Romans from crossing the river, 
retired into the woods, where they had made them- 



296 Ccesar. 

selves a fortress with felled trees. The weak defence 
was easily stormed ; the Britons were flying ; the Ro- 
mans were preparing to follow ; when an express 
came from Deal to tell Caesar that a gale had risen 
again, and the fleet was lying wrecked upon the 
shore. A second accident of the same kind might 
have seemed an omen of evil, but Cagsar did not be- 
lieve in omens. The even temperament of his mind 
was never discomposed, and at each moment he was 
able always to decide, and to do, what tlie moment 
required. The army was halted. He rode back him- 
self to the camp, to find that forty of his vessels only 
were entirely ruined. The rest were injured, but not 
irreparably. They were hauled up within the lines 
of the camp. He selected the best mechanics out of 
the legions ; he sent across to Labienus for more, and 
directed him to build fresh transports in the yards at 
Boulogne. The men worked night and day, and in 
little more than a week Csesar was able to rejoin his 
troops and renew his march. 

The object of the invasion had been rather to se- 
cure the quiet of Gaul than the annexation of new 
subjects and further territory. But it could not be 
obtained till the Romans had measured themselves 
against the Britons, and had asserted their military 
superiority. The Britons had already shown them- 
selves a fearless race, who could not be despised. 
They fought bravely from their cars and horses, re- 
treated rapidly when overmatched, and were found 
dangerous Avhen pursued. Encouraged by the report 
of the disaster to the fleet, Cassibelaunus, chief of 
the Cassi, whose headquarters were at St. Albans, 
had collected a considerable army from both sides of 
the Thames, and was found in strength in Caesar's 



Second Invasion of Britain. 297 

front when he again began to move. They attacked 
his foraging parties. They set on his flaniving de- 
tachments. They left their cars, and fought on foot 
when they could catch an advantage ; and remounted 
and were swiftly out of the reach of the heavily 
armed Roman infantry. The Gauhsh horse pursued, 
but did not know the country, and suffered more 
harm than they inflicted. Thus the British gave 
Cassar considerable trouble, which he recorded to 
their credit. Not a word can be found in his Com- 
mentaries to the disparagement of brave and open ad- 
versaries. At length he forced them into a battle, 
where their best warriors were killed. The confed- 
eracy of tribes dissolved, and never rallied again, and 
he pursued his march thenceforward with little mo- 
lestation. He crossed the Medway, and reached the 
Thames seemingly at Sunbury. There was a ford 
there, but the river was still deep, the ground was 
staked, and Cassibelaunus with his own people was 
on the other side. The legions, however, paid small 
attention to Cassibelaunus ; they plunged through 
with the water at their necks. The Britons dis- 
persed, driving off their cattle, and watching his 
march from a distance. The tribes from the eastern 
counties made their submission, and at Csesar's or- 
ders supplied him with corn. Caesar marched on to 
St. Albans itself, then lying in the midet of forests 
iind marshes, where the cattle, the Cassi's only 
wealth, had been collected for security. St. Albans 
and the cattle were taken ; Cassibelaunus sued for 
peace ; the days were drawing in ; and Caesar, having 
no intention of wintering in Britain, considered he 
had done enough, and need go no farther. He re- 
turned as he had come. The Kentish men had at- 



298 Cmar, 

tacked the camp in his absence, but had been beaten 
off with heavy loss. The Romans had sallied out upon 
them, killed as many as they could catch, and taken 
one of their chiefs. Thenceforward they had been 
left in quiet. A nominal tribute, which was never 
paid, was assigned to the tribes who had submitted. 
The fleet was in order, and all was ready for depart- 
ure The only, but unhappily too valuable, booty 
which they had carried off consisted of some thousands 
of prisoners. These, when landed in Gaul, were dis- 
posed of to contractors, to be carried to Italy and 
sold as slaves. Two trips were required to transport 
the increased numbers ; but the passage was accom- 
plished without accident, and the whole army was 
again at Boulogne. 

Thus ended the expedition into Britain. It had 
been undertaken rather for effect than for material 
advantage ; and everything which had been aimed at 
had been gained. The Gauls looked no more across 
the Channel for support of insurrections ; the Ro- 
mans talked with admiration for a century of the far 
land to which Csesar had borne the" eagles ; and no 
exploit gave him more fame with his contemporaries. 
Nor was it without use to have solved a geographical 
problem, and to have discovered with certainty what 
the country was, the white cliffs of which were visi- 
ble from the shores which were now Roman territory. 
CaBsar during his stay in Britain had acquired a fairly 
accurate notion of it. He knew that it was an isl- 
and, and he knew its dimensions and shape. He 
knew that Ireland lay to the west of it, and Ireland, 
he had been told, was about half its size. He had 
heard of the Isle of Man, and how it was situated. 
To the extreme north above Britain he had ascer- 



Account of Britain, 299 

tained that there were other islands, where in whiter 
the sun scarcely rose above the horizon ; and he had 
observed through accurate measurement by water- 
clocks that the midsummer nights in Britain were 
sliorter than in the south of France and Italy. He 
had inquired into the natural products of the coun- 
try. There were tin mines, he found, in parts of the 
island, and iron in small quantities; but copper ;^a3 
imported from the Continent. The vegetation le- 
sembled that of France, save that he saw no beech 
and no spruce pine. Of more consequence were the 
people and the distribution of them. The Britons of 
the interior he conceived to be indigenous. The coast 
was chiefly occupied by immigrants from Belgium, as 
could be traced in the nomenclature of places. The 
country seemed thickly inhabited. The flocks and 
herds were large ; and farm buildings were frequent, 
resembling those in Gaul. In Kent especially, civil- 
ization was as far a^dvanced as on the opposite conti- 
nent. The Britons proper from the interior showed 
fewer signs of progress. They did not break the 
ground for corn ; they had no manufactures ; they 
lived on meat and milk, and were dressed in leather. 
They dyed their skins blue that they might look more 
terrible. They w^ore their hair long, and had long 
moustaches. In their habits they had not risen out 
uf the lowest order of savagery. They had wives in 
common, and brothers and sisters, parents and chil- 
dren, lived together with promiscuous unrestraint. 
From such a country not much was to be gained iu 
the way of spoil ; nor had much been expected. Since 
Cicero's conversion, his brother Quintus had joined 
Caesar, and was now attending him as one of his 
lieutenant-generals. The brothers were in intimate 



800 Cmsar. 

correspondence, Cicero, though he watched the 
British expedition with interest, anticipated that 
Quintus would bring nothing of value back with him 
but slaves ; and he warned his friend Atticus, who 
dealt extensively in such commodities, that the slaves 
from Britain would not be fonnd of superior qual- 

1 "Britannici belli exitus exppectatur. Constat enim, aditus insulae 
esse munitos mirificis molibus. Etiam illud jam cognitum est, neque ar- 
gent! scrupulum esse ullum in ilia insula, neque ullam spem prsedai, nisi 
ex niancipiis: ex quibis nuUos puto te litteris aut musicis erudites exspec- 
tare." — Ad Atticum^ iv. 16. It does not appear what Cicero meant by 
the "mirificaj moles" which guarded the approaches to Britain, whether 
Dover Cliff or the masses of sand under water at the Goodwins. 



CHAPTER XVn. 

The summer had passed off gloriously for the Ro- 
man arms. The expedition to Britain liad 
produced all the effects which Csesar ex- 
pected from it, and Gaul was outwardly calm. Be- 
low the smooth appearance the elements of disquiet 
were silently working, and the winter was about to 
produce the most serious disaster and the sharpest 
trials which Caesar had yet experienced. On his re- 
turn from Britain he held a council at Amiens. The 
harvest had been bad, and it was found expedient, 
for their better provision, to disperse the troops over 
a broader area than usual. There were in all eight 
legions, with part of another to be disposed of, and 
they were distributed in the following order : Lucius 
Roscius was placed at S^ex, in Normandy ; Quintus 
Cicero at Charleroy, not far from the scene of the 
battle with the Nervii. Cicero had chosen this posi- 
tion for himself as peculiarly advantageous ; and his 
brother speaks of Csesar's acquiescence in the ar- 
rangement as a special mark of favor to himself. 
Labienus was at Lavacherie, on the Ourthe, about 
seventy miles to the southeast of Cicero ; and Sabi- 
nus and Cotta were at Tongres, among the Aduatuci, 
not far from Liege, an equal distance from him to the 
northeast. Caius Fabius had a legion at St. Pol, be- 
tween Calais and Arras ; Trebonius one at Amiens ; 
Marcus Crassus one at Montdidier ; Munatias Flan- 
cus one across the Oise, near Compi^gne. Roscius 



802 Ccesar. 

was far off, but in a comparatively CLiet coun'ory. 
The other camps lay within a circle, two hundred 
miles in diameter, of which Bavay was the centre. 
Amiens was at one point on the circumference. Ton- 
gres, on the opposite side of it, to the northea&t. 
Sabiniis, beinp the most exposed, had, in addition to 
his legion, a iew cohorts lately raised in Italy. Caesar, 
Laving no particular business to take him over the 
Alps, remained with Trebonius attending to general 
business. His dispositions had been carefully watched 
by the Gauls. Caesar, they supposed, would go away 
as usual ; they even believed that he had gone ; and 
a conspiracy was formed in the north to destroy the 
legions in detail. 

The instigator of the movement was Induciomarus, 
the leader of the patriot party among the Treveri, 
whose intrigues had taken Caesar to the Moselle be- 
fore the first visit to Britain. At that time Inducio- 
marus had been able to do nothing ; but a fairer op- 
portunity had arrived. The overthrow of the great 
German horde had affected powerfully the semi-Teu- 
tonic populations on the left bank of the Rhine. The 
Eburones, a large tribe of German race occupying 
the country between Liege and Cologne, had given in 
their submission ; but their strength was still undi- 
minished, and Induciomarus prevailed on their two 
chiefs, Ambiorix and Catavolcus, to attack Sabinus 
jind Cotta. It was midwinter. The camp at Ton- 
gres was isolated. The nearest support was seventy 
miles distant. If one Koman camp was taken, In- 
duciomarus calculated that the country would rise ; 
the others could be separately surrounded, and Gaul 
would be free. The plot was well laid. An in- 
trenched camp being difficult to storm, the confeder- 



Revolt of the Ehurones, 303 

ates decided to begin by treachery. Ambiorix was 
personally known to many of the Roman officers. 
He sent to Sabinus to say that he wished to commu- 
nicate with him on a matter of the greatest conse- 
quence. An interview being granted, he stated that 
a general conspiracy'' had been formed through the 
whole of Gaul to surprise and destroy the legions. 
Each station was to be attacked on the same daj, 
that they might be unable to support each otlier. 
He pretended himself to have remonstrated ; but his 
tribe, he said, had been carried away by the general 
enthusiasm for liberty, and he could not keep them 
back. Vast bodies of Germans had crossed the Rhine 
to join in the war. In two days at the furthest they 
would arrive. He was under private obligations to 
Ciesar, who had rescued his son and nephew in the 
fight with the Aduatuci, and out of gratitude he 
wished to save Sabinus from destruction, which was 
otherwise inevitable. He urged him to escape while 
there was still time, and to join either Labienus or 
Cicero, giving a solemn promise that he should not be 
molested on the road. 

A council of officers was held on the receipt of this 
unwelcome information. It Avas thought unlikely 
chat the Eburones would rise by themselves. It was 
probable enough, therefore, that the conspiracy was 
more extensive. Cotta, who was second in command, 
w^as of opinion that it would be rash and wrong to 
leave the camp without Csesar's orders. They had 
abundant provisions. They could hold their own 
lines against any force which the Germans could 
bring upon them, and help would not be long in 
reaching them. It would be preposterous to take so 
grave a stop on the advice of an enemy. Sabinus un- 



804 Ccesar. 

fortunately thooglit differently. He had been over- 
cautious in Brittany, though he had afterwards re- 
deemed his fault. Ccesar, he persuaded himself, had 
left the country ; each commander therefore must act 
on his own responsibility. The story told by Am- 
biorix was likely in itself. The Germans were known 
to be furious at the passage of the Rhine, the destruc- 
tion of Ariovistus, and their other defeats. Gaul re- 
sented the loss- of its independence. Ambiorix was 
acting like a true friend, and it would be madness to 
refuse his offer. Two days' march would bring them 
to their friends. If the alarm was false, they could 
return. If there was to be a general insurrection, 
the legions could not be too speedily brought together. 
If they waited, as Cotta advised, they would be sur- 
rounded, and in the end would be starved into sur- 
render. 

Cotta was not convinced, and the majority of offi- 
cers supported him. The first duty of a Roman 
army, he said, was obedience to orders. 'E'heir busi- 
ness was to hold the post which had been committed 
to them, till they w^ere otherwise directed. The offi- 
cers were consulting in the midst of the camp, sur- 
rounded by the legionaries. " Have it as you wish," 
Sabinus exclaimed, in a tone which the men could 
hear ; " I am not afraid of being killed. If things 
go amiss, the troops will understand where to lay the 
blame. If you allowed it they might in forty-eight 
hours be at the next quarters, facing the chances of 
war with their comrades, instead of perishing here 
alone by sword or hunger." 

Neither party would give way. The troops joined 
in the discussion. They were willing either to go or 
to stay, if their commanders would agree ; but they 



Revolt of the Ehurones, 305 

said that it must be one thing or the other ; disputes 
would be certain ruin. The discussion Listed till 
midnight. Sabinus was obstinate, Cotta at last with- 
drew his opposition, and the fatal resolution w;is 
formed to march at dawn. The remaining hours ol: 
■lie night were passed by the men in collecting such 
valuables as they wished to take with them. Every- 
thing seemed ingeniously done to increase the diffi- 
culty of remaining, and to add to the perils of the. 
marcb by the exhaustion of the troops. The Meuse 
lay between them and Labienus, so they had selected 
to go to Cicero at Charleroy. Their -course lay up 
the left bank of the little river G-eer. Trusting to 
the promises of Ambiorix, they started in loose order, 
followed by a long train of carts and wagons. The 
Eburones lay, waiting for tliem, in a large valley, two 
miles from the camp. When most of the cohorts 
were entangled in the middle of the hollow, the 
enemy appeared suddenly, some in front, some on 
both sides of the valley, some behind threatening the 
baggage. Wise men, as C?esar says, anticipate pos- 
sible difficulties, and decide beforehand what they 
will do if occasions arise. Sabinus had foreseen noth- 
ing, and arranged nothing. Cotta, who had expected 
what might happen, was better prepared, and did the 
best that was possible. The men had scattered 
among the wagons, each to save or protect what he 
could. Cotta ordered them back, bade them leave 
the carts to their fate, and form together in a ring. 
He did right, Caesar thought ; but the effect was un- 
fortunate. The troops lost heart, and the enemy 
was encouraged, knowing that the baggage would 
only be abandoned when the position was desperate. 
The Eburones were under good comnuind. They did 

20 



806 Ccesar. 

not, as miglit have been expected, fly upon the plun- 
der. They stood to their work, well aware that the 
carts would not escape them. They were not in 
great numbers. Csesar specially says that the Ro- 
mans were as numerous as they. But every taing 
else was against the Romans. Sabinus could give ifb 
directions. They were in a narrow meadow, with 
wooded hills on each side of them filled with enemies 
whom they could not reach. When they charged, 
the light-footed barbarians ran back ; when they re- 
tired, they closed in upon them again, and not a dart, 
an arrow, or a stone missed its mark among the 
crowded cohorts. Bravely as the Romans fought, 
they were in a trap where their courage was useless 
to them. The battle lasted from dawn till the after- 
noon, and though they were falling fast, there was 
no flinching and no cowardice. Caesar, who inquired 
particularly into the minutest circumstances of the 
disaster, records by name the officers who distin- 
guished themselves ; he mentions one whose courage 
he had marked before, who was struck down with a 
lance through his thighs, and another who was killed 
rescuing his son. The brave Cotta was hit in the 
mouth by a stone as he was cheering on his men. 
The end came at last. Sabinus, helpless and dis- 
tracted, caught sight of Ambiorix in the confusion, 
and sent an interpreter to implore him to spare the 
remainder of the army. Ambiorix answered, that 
Sabinus might come to him, if he pleased ; he hoped 
he might persuade his tribe to be merciful ; he prom- 
ised that Sabinus himself should suffer no injury. 
Sabinus asked Cotta to accompan^^ bim. Cotta said 
he would never surrender to an armed enemy ; and, 
wounded as he was, he stayed with the legion. Sabi- 



Destruction of Sahinus. 807 

nns, followed by the rest of the surviving officers 
^vhom he ordered to attend him, proceeded to the 
spot where the chief was standing. They were com- 
manded to lay down their arms. They obeyed, and 
were immediately killed ; and with one wild yell the 
barbarians then rushed in a mass on the deserted co- 
horts. Cotta fell, and most of the others with him. 
The survivors, with the eagle of the legion, which 
they had still faithfully guarded, struggled back in 
the dusk to their deserted camp. The standard- 
bearer, surrounded by enemies, reached the fosse, 
flung the eagle over the rampart, and fell with the 
last effort. Those that were left fought on till night, 
and then, seeing that hope was gone, died like Ro- 
mans on each other's swords — a signal illustration 
of the Roman greatness of mind, which had died out 
among the degenerate patricians, but was living in all 
its force in Csesar's legions. A few stragglers, who 
had been cut off during the battle from their com- 
rades, escaped in the night through the woods, and 
carried the news to Labienus. Cicero, at Charleroy, 
was left in ignorance. The roads were beset, and no 
messenger could reach him. 

Induciomarus understood his countrymen. The 
conspiracy with which he had frightened Sabinus had 
not as yet extended beyond a few northern chiefs, 
but the success of Ambiorix produced the effect 
which he desired. As soon as it was known that two 
Roman generals had been cut off, the remnants of the 
Aduatuci and the Nervii were in arms for their own 
revengre. The smaller tribes alonoj the Meuse and 
Sarabre rose with them ; and Cicero, taken by sur- 
prise, found himself surrounded before he had a 
ihought of danger. The Gauls, knowing that their 



808 Ccesar. 

chances depended on tlie capture oi tne second camp 
before assistance could arrive, flung themselves so 
desperately on the intrenchments that the legionaries 
were barely able to repel the first assault. The as- 
sailants were driven back at last, and Cicero dis- 
patched messengers to Caasar to Amiens, to give Ijim 
notice of the rising ; but not a man was able to pene- 
trate through the multitude of enemies which now 
swarmed in the woods. The troops worked gallantly, 
strengthening the weak points of their fortifications. 
In one night they raised a hundred and twenty tow- 
ers on their walls. Again the Gauls tried a storm, 
and, though they failed a second time, they left the 
garrison no rest either by day or night. There was 
no leisure for sleep ; not a hand could be spared from 
the lines to care for the sick or wounded. Cicero 
was in bad health, but he clung to his work till the 
men carried him by force to his tent and obliged him 
to lie down. The first surprise not having succeeded, 
the Nervian chiefs, who knew Cicero, desired a par- 
ley. They told the same story which Ambiorix had 
told, that the Germans had crossed the Rhine, and 
that all Gaul was in arms. They inforaied him of 
the destruction of Sabinus ; they warned him that 
the same fate was hanging over himself, and that his 
only hope was in surrender. They did not wish, 
they said, to hurt either him or the Roman people; 
he and his troops would be free to go where they 
pleased, but they were determined to prevent the 
legions from quartering themselves permanently in 
their country. 

There was but one Sabinus in the Roman army. 
Cicero answered with a spirit worthy of his country, 
that Romans accepted no condiaons from enemies in 



Quintus Cicero besieged. 309 

arms. The Gauls might, if they pleased, send a dep- 
utatici to Csesar, and hear what he would say to 
them. For himself, he had no authority to listen to 
tlijem. Force and treachery being alike unavailing, 
they resolved to starve Cicero out. They had 
watched the Koman strategy. They had seen and 
felt the value of the intrenchnients. They made a 
bank and ditch all round the camp, and, though they 
had no tools but their swords with which to dig turf 
and cut trees, so many there were of them that the 
work was completed in three hours.^ Having thus 
pinned the Romans in, they slung red-hot balls and 
flung darts carrying lighted straw over the ramparts 
of the camp on the thatched roofs of the soldiers' 
huts. The wind was high, the fire spread, and 
amidst the smoke and the blaze the Gauls again 
rushed on from all sides to the assault. Roman disci- 
pline was never more severely tried, and never showed 
its excellence more signally. The houses and stores 
of the soldiers were in flames behind them. The 
enemy were pressing on the walls in front, covered 
by a storm of javelins and stones and arrows, but 
not a man left his post to save his property or to ex- 
tinguish the fire. They fought as they stood, strik- 
ing down rank after rank of the Gauls, who still 
crowded on, trampling on the bodies of their com- 
panions, as the foremost lines fell dead into the ditch. 
Such as reached the wall never left it alive, for they 
were driven forward by the throng behind on the 
ewords of the legionaries. Thousands of them had 
fallen before, in desperation, they drew back at last. 

1 Caspar sa}\s their trendies were fifteen miles long. This is, perhaps, a 
mistake of the transcriber. A Roman camp did uot usually cover more 
than a few acres. 



310 Gmar, 

But Cicero's situation was almost desperate too. 
The huts were destroyed. The majority of the men 
were wounded, and those able to bear arms were daily 
growing weaker in number. Caesar was 120 miles 
distant, and no word had reached him of the danger. 
Messengers were again sent off, but they were caught 
one after another, and were tortured to death in front 
of the ramparts, and the boldest men shrank from 
risking their lives on so hopeless an enterprise. At 
length a Nervian slave was found to make another 
adventure. He was a Gaul, and could easily disguise 
himself. A letter to Caesar was inclosed in the shaft 
of his javelin. He glided out of the camp in the dark, 
passed undetected among the enemies as one of them- 
selves, and, escaping from their lines, made his way 
to Amiens. 

Swiftness of movement was Csesar's distinguishing 
excellence. The legions were kept ready to march at 
an hour's notice. He sent an order to Crassus to join 
him instantly from Montdidier. He sent to Fabius 
at St. Pol to meet him at Arras. He wrote to Labi- 
enus, telling him the situation, and leaving him to 
his discretion to advance or to remain on his guard at 
Lavacherie, as might seem most prudent. Not caring 
to wait for the rest of his army, and leaving Crassus 
to take care of Amiens, he started himself, the morn- 
ing after the information reached him, with Treboni- 
us's legion to Cicero's relief. Fabius joined him, as he 
had been directed, at Arras. He had hoped for La- 
bienus's presence also ; but Labienus sent to say that 
he was surrounded by the Treveri, and dared not stir. 
Csesar approved his hesitation, and with but two le- 
gions, amounting in all to only 7,000 men, he hurried 
forward to the Nervian border. Learning that Ciceio 



Relief of Cicero, 811 

was still holding out, he wrote a letter to him in 
Greek, that it might be unintelligible if intercepted, 
to tell him that help was near. A Gaul carried the 
letter, and fastened it by a line to his javelin, which 
he flung over Cicero's rampart. The javelin stuck in 
the side of one of the towers, and was unobserved for 
several days. The besiegers were better infcrnied. 
They learnt that Csesar was at hand, that he had but 
a handful of men with him. By that time their own 
numbers had risen to 60,000, and, leaving Cicero to be 
dealt with at leisure, they moved off to envelope and 
destroy their great enemy. Ceesar was well served 
by spies. He knew that Cicero was no longer in "m- 
mediate danger, and there was thus no occasion for 
him to risk a battle at a disadvantas^e to relieve Lim. 
When he found the Gauls near him, he encamped, 
drawing his lines as narrowly as lie could, that from 
the small show which he made they might imagine 
his troops to be even fewer than they were. He in- 
vited attack b}^ an ostentation of timidity, and having 
tempted tbe Gauls to become the assailants, he flung 
open his gates, rushed out upon them with his whole 
force, and all but annihilated them. The patriot 
army was broken to pieces, and the unfortunate Ner- 
vii and Aduatuci never rallied from this second blow. 
Cassar could then go at his leisure to Cicero and his 
comrades, who had fought so nobly against such des- 
perate odds. In every ten men hie found that there 
was but one unwounded. He inquired with minute 
curiosity into every detail of the siege. In a general 
address he thanked Cicero and the whole les^ion. He 
thanked the officers man by man for their gallantry 
and fidelity. Now for the first time (and that he 
could have remained ignorant of it so long speaks for 



812 - Ocesar. • 

the passionate miarximity with which the Gauls had 
risen) he learnt from prisoners the fate of Sabinus. 
He did not underrate the greatness of the catastrophe. 
The soldiers in the army he trusted always as friends 
and comrades in arms, and the loss of so many of 
them was as personally grievous to him as the effects 
of it might be politically mischievous. He made it 
the subject of a second speech to his own and to Cic- 
ero's troops, but he spoke to encourage and to console. 
A serious misfortune had happened, he said, through 
the fault of one of his generals, but it must be borne 
with equanimity, and had already been heroically ex- 
piated. The meeting with Cicero must have been an 
interesting one. He and the two Ciceros had been 
friends and companions in youth. It would have 
been well if Marcus Tullius could have remembered 
in the coming years the personal exertion with which 
Cassar had rescued a brother to whom he was so 
warmly attached. 

Communications among. the Gauls were feverishly 
rapid. While the Nervii were attacking Cicero, In- 
duciomarus and the Treveri had surrounded LabieuKS 
at Lavacherie. Cs3sar had entered Cicero's camp at 
three o'clock in the afternoon. The news reached 
Induciomarus before midnight, and he had disap- 
peared by the morning. Caesar returned to Amiens, 
but the whole country was now in a state of excite- 
ment. He had intended to go to Italy, but he aban- 
doned all thoughts of departure. Rumors came of 
messengers hurrying to and fro, of meetings at night 
in lonely places, of confederacies among the patriots. 
Even Brittany was growing uneasy ; a force had been 
collected to attack Roscius, though it had dispersed 
nfter the relief of Cicero. Ca3sar again summoned 



Ldbienus attacked, 313 

the chiefs to come to him, and between threats and 
encouragements succeeded in preventing a general ris- 
ing. But the tribes on the upper Seine broke into 
disturbance. The ^dui and the Remi alone re- 
mained really loyal ; and it was evident that only a 
leader was wanted to raise the whole of Gaul. Cee- 
Bar himself admitted that nothing could be more nat- 
ural. The more high-spirited of the Gauls were mis- 
erable to see that their countrymen had so lost conceit, 
of themselves as to submit willingly to the Roman 
rule. 

Induciomarus was busy all the winter, soliciting 
help from the Germans, and promising money and 
lands. The Germans had had enough of fighting the 
Romans, and, as long as their own independence was 
not threatened, were disinclined to move ; but Indu- 
ciomarus, nothing daunted, gathered volunteers on all 
sides. His camp became a rallying point for disaffec- 
tion. Envoys came . privately to him from distant 
tribes. He, too, held his rival council, and a fresh 
attack on the camp of Labienus was' to be the first 
step in a general war. Labienus, well informed of 
what was going on, watched him quietly from his in- 
trenchments. When the Gauls approached, he af- 
fected fear, as Ceesar had done, and he secretl}- formed 
a body of cavalry, of whose existence they had no 
suspicion. Induciomarus became careless. Day after 
day he rode round the intrenchments, insulting the 
Romans as cowards, and his men flinging their jave- 
lins over the walls. Labienus remained passive, till 
one evening, when, after one of these displays, the 
loose bands of the Gauls had scattered, he sent his 
borse out suddenly with orders to fight neither with 
ftmall nor great, save with Induciomarus only, and 



314 Ccesar. 

promising a reward for bis liead. Fortune favored 
him, Induciomarus was overtaken and killed in a 
ford of tlie Ourthe, and for the moment the agitation 
was cooled down. But the impression which had 
been excited by the destruction of Sabinus was still 
telling through the country. Csbsar expected fresh 
trouble in the coming summer, and spent the rest of 
the winter and spring in preparing for a new strug- 
gle. Future peace depended on convincing the Gauls 
of the inexhaustible resources of Italy; on showing 
them that any loss which might be inflicted could be 
immediately repaired, and that the army could and 
would be maintained in whatever strength might be 
necessary to coerce them. He raised two fresh le- 
gions in his own province. Pompey had formed a 
legion in the north of Italy, within CaBsar's bounda- 
ries, for service in Spain. Caesar requested Pompey 
to lend him this legion for immediate purposes ; and 
Pompey, who was still on good terms with Csesar, 
recognized the importance of the occasion, and con- 
sented without difficulty. 

Thus amply reinforced, Caesar, before the grass had 
begun to grow, took the field against the tribes which 
were openly disaffected. The first business was to 
punish the Belgians, who had attacked Cicero. He 
fell suddenly on the Nervii with four legions, seized 
their cattle, wasted their coimtry, and carried off 
thousands of them to be sold into slavery. Return- 
ing to Amiens, he again called the chiefs about him, 
and, the Seine tribes refusing to put in an appearance, 
he transferred the council to Paris, and, advancing 
by rapid marches, he brought the Senones and Car- 
nutes to pray for pardon.^ Pie then turned on the 

1 People about Sens, Melun, and Chartres. 



Second Conquest of the Belgce, 315 

Treveri and their allies, who, under Ambiorix, had 
destroyed Sabinus. Leaving Labienus with the addi- 
tional legions to check the Treveri, he went himself 
into Flanders, where Ambiorix was hiding among the 
rivers and marshes^ He threw bridges over the dykes, 
burnt the villages, and carried off an enormous spoil, 
of cattle and, alas ! of men. To favor and enrich the 
tribes that submitted after a first defeat, to depopu- 
late the determinately rebellious by seizing and sell- 
ing as slaves those who had forfeited a right to his 
protection, was his uniform and, as the event proved, 
entirel}^ successful policy. The persuasions of the 
Treveri had failed with the nearer German tribes ; 
but some of the Suevi, who had never seen the Ro- 
mans, were tempted to adventure over and try their 
fortunes ; and the Treveri were waiting for them, to 
set on Labienus, in Caesar's absence. Labienus went 
in' search of the Treveri, tempted them into 
an engagement by a feigned flight, killed 
many of them, and filled his camp with prisoners. 
Their German allies retreated again across the river, 
and the patriot chiefs, who had gone with Inclucio- 
i^narus, concealed themselves in the forests of West- 
phalia. Caesar thought it desirable to renew the Pcd- 
monition which he had given the Germans two years 
before, and again threw a bridge over the Rhine at the 
same place where he had made the first, but a little 
higher up the stream. Experience made the construc- 
tion more easy. The bridge was beg^m and finished 
in a few days, but this time the labor was thrown away. 
The operation itself lost its impressiveness by repeti- 
tion, and the barrenness of practical results was more 
rvident than before. The Sueres, who had gone home, 
vere far away in the interior. To lead the heavily 



816 Coisa^, 

armed legions in pursuit of wild liglit-footed marau 
ders, who had not a town which could be burned, or a 
field of corn which could be cut for food, was to wastt 
their strength to no purpose, and to prove still more 
plainly that in their own forests th^y were beyond the 
reach of vengeance. Csesar drew back again, after a 
brief visit to his allies the Ubii, cut two hundred feet 
of the bridge on the German side, and leaving the rest 
standing with a guard to defend it, he went in search 
of Ambiorix, who had as yet eluded him, in the Ar- 
dennes. Ambiorix had added treachery to insurrec- 
tion, and as long as he was free and unpunished the 
massacred legion had not been fully avenged. Caesar 
was particularly anxious to catch him, and once had 
found the nest warm which Ambiorix had left but a 
few moments before. 

In the pursuit he came again to Tongres, to the 
fatal camp which Sabinus had deserted and in v^^hich 
the last of the legionaries had killed each other, rather 
than degrade the Roman name by allowing themselves 
to be captured. The spot was fated, and narrowly 
escaped being the scene of a second catastrophe as 
frightful as the first. The intrenchments were stand^ 
ing as they were left, ready to be occupied. Ca3sar, 
finding himself incumbered by his heavy baggage in 
the pursuit of Ambiorix, decided to leave it there with 
Quintus Cicero and the 14th legion. He was going 
himself to scour Brabant and East Flanders as far as 
the Scheldt. Jn seven days he promised to return, 
and meanwhile he gave Cicero strict directions to 
keep the legion within the lines, and not to allow any 
of the men to stray. It happened that after C^sar 
recrossed the Rhine two thousand German horse liad 
followed in bravado, and were then plundering be- 



Cicero again iii Banger. 317 

fcween Tongres and the river. Hearing that there 
was a rich booty in the camp, that Csesar was away, 
and only a small party had been left to guard it, they 
decided to try to take the place by a sudden stroke. 
Cicero, seeing no sign of an enemy, had permitted 
his men to disperse in foraging parties. The Ger- 
mans were on them before they could recover their 
mtrenchments, and they had to form at a distance 
and defend themselves as they could. The gates of 
the camp were open, and the enemy were actually 
inside before the few maniples who were left there 
were able to collect and resist them. Fortunately 
Sextius Baculus, the same officer who had so brill- 
iantly distinguished himself in the battle with the 
Nervii, and had since been badly wounded, was lying 
sick in his tent, where he had been for five days, un- 
able to touch food. Hearing the disturbance, Bacu- 
lus sprang out, snatched a sword, rallied such men as 
he could find, and checked the attack for a few min- 
utes. Other officers rushed to his help, and the le- 
gionaries having their centurions with them recovered 
their steadiness. Sextius Baculus was again severely 
hurt, and fainted, but he was carried off in safety. 
Some of the cohorts who were outside, and had been 
for a time cut off, made their way into the camp to 
join the defenders, and the Germans who had come 
without any fixed purpose, merely for plunder, gave 
way and galloped off again. They left the Romans, 
however, still in the utmost consternation. The scene 
and the associations of it suggested the most gloomy 
anticipations. They thought that German cavalry 
»:;ould never be so far from the Rhine, unless their 
countrymen were invading in force behind them. 
Caesar, it was supposed, must have been surprised 



818 Ccesar, 

and destroyed, and they and every Roman in Gaul 
would soon share the same fate. Braye as they were, 
the Roman soldiers seem to have been curiously lia- 
ble to panics of this kind. The faith with which they 
relied upon their general avenged itself through the 
com])leteness with which they were accustomed to 
depend upon him. He returned on the day which 
he had fixed, and not unnaturally was displeased at 
the disregard of his orders. He did not, or does not 
in his Commentaries, professedly blame Cicero. But 
the Ciceros perhaps resented the loss of confidence 
which one of them had brought upon himself. Quin- 
tus Cicero cooled in his zeal, and afterwards amused 
the leisure of his winter quarters with composing 
worthless dramas. 

Ambiorix had again escaped, and was never taken. 
The punishment fell on his tribe. The Eburones 
were completely rooted out. The turn of the Car- 
nutes and Senones came next. The people them- 
selves were spared ; but their leader, a chief named 
Acco, who was found to have instigated the revolt, 
was arrested and executed. Again the whole of Gaul 
settled into seeming quiet ; and Caesar went to Italy, 
where the political frenzy was now boiling over. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

The conference at Lucca and the Senate's indif- 
ference bad determined Cicero to throw in 
his lot with the trimmers. He had remon- 
strated with Pompey on the imprudence of prolong- 
ing Cesar's command. Pompey, he thought, would 
find out in time that he had made Csesar too strong 
for him ; but Pompey had refused to listen, and 
Cicero had concluded that he must consider his own 
interests. His brother Quintus joined the army in 
Gaul to take part in the invasion of Britain, and to 
share the dangers and the honors of the winter which 
followed it. Cicero himself began a warm corre- 
spondence with Csesar, and through Quintus sent con- 
tinued messages to him. Literature was a neutral 
ground on which he could approach his political 
enemy without too open discredit, and he courted 
eagerly the approval of a critic whose literary genius 
he esteemed as highly as his own. Men of genuine 
ability are rarely vain of what they can do really 
■well. Cicero admired himself as a statesman with 
the most unbounded enthusiasm. He was proud of 
his verses, which were hopelessly commonplace. In 
the art in which he was without a rival he was 
modest *and diffident. He sent his various writings 
for Cassar's judgment. " Like the traveller who has 
overslept himself," he said, " yet by extraordinary 
exertions reaches his goal sooner than if he had been 
earlier on the road, I will follow your advice and 



820 V(2sar, 

court this man. I have been asleep too long. I will 
correct my slowness with my speed ; and as you say 
he approves my verses, I shall travel not with a com- 
mon carriage, but with a four-in-hand of poetry." ^ 

" What does Csesar say of my poems ? " he wrote 
again. " He tells me in one of his letters that he has 
never read better Greek. At one place he writes 
padvfKorepa (somewhat careless). That is his word. 
Tell me the truth, Was it the matter which did not 
please him, or the style ? " " Do not be afraid," he 
added with candid simplicity ; " I shall not think a 
hair the worse of myself ." ^ 

His affairs were still in disorder. Caesar had now 
large sums at his disposition. Cicero gave the high- 
est proof of the sincerity of his conversion by accept- 
ing money from him. " You say," he observed in 
another letter, " that Caesar shows every day more 
marks of his affection for you. It gives me infinite 
pleasure. I can have no second thoughts in Caesar's 
affairs. I act on conviction, and am doing but my 
duty ; but I am inflamed with love for him."^ 

With Pompey and Crassus Cicero seemed equally 
familiar. When their consulship was over, their prov- 
inces were assigned as had been determined. Pom- 
pey had Spain, with six legions. He remained him- 
self at Rome, sending lieutenants in charge of them. 
Crassus aspired to equal the glory of his colleagues 
in the open field. He had gained some success in 
the war with the slaves which persuaded him that he 
too could be a conqueror; and knowing as much of 

1 Ad Qiiintum Fratrem, ii. 15. 

2 "Ego enim ne pilo quidem minus me amabo." — Ibid. ii. 16. Other 
editions read "te." 

8 "Videor id judicio facere : jam enim debeo: sed amore sum ?flcen- 
inm" — lind. iii. I. 



Cicero's Apology. 321 

foreign campaigning as the clerks in his factories, he 
intended to use Sj^ria as a base of operations against 
the Parthiaiis, and to extend the frontier to the In- 
dus. The Senate had murmured, but Cicero had 
passionately defended Crassus ; ^ and as if to show 
publicly how entirely he had now devoted himself to 
the cause of the " Dynasts," he invited Crassus to 
dine with him the day before his departure for the 
East. 

The position was not wholly pleasant to Cicero. 
" Self-respect in speech, liberty in choosing the course 
which we will pursue, is all gone," he wrote to Len- 
tulus Spinther — " gone not more from me than 
from us all. We must assent, as a matter of course, 
to what a few men say, or we must differ from them 
to no purpose. — The relations of the Senate, of the 
courts of justice, nay, of the whole commonwealth, 
are changed. — The consular dignity of a firm and 
courageous statesman can no longer be thought of. 
It has been lost by the folly of those who estranged 
from the Senate the compact order of the Equites 
und a very distinguished man (C£esar)."2 ^^^d 
again : " We must go with the times. Those who 
have played a great part in public life have never 
been able to adhere to the same views on all occa- 
sions. The art of navigation lies in trimming to the 
storm. When you can reach your harbor by alter- 
ing your course, it is a folly to persevere in struggling 
against the wind. Were I entirely free I should still 
act as I am doing ; and when I am invited to ray 
present attitude by the kindness of one set of men, 
and am driven to it by the injurious conduct of the 

1 Ad Crassum. Ad Familiares, v. 8. 

2 Ad Lentnlum. Ad Fain. i. 8. 

21 



822 Ccemr, 

other, I am content to do what I conceive will con- 
duce at once to my own advantage and the welfare 
of the State. — Cesar's influence is enormous. His 
wealth is vast. I have the use of both, as if they 
-V^ere my own. Nor could I have crushed the con- 
spiracy of a set of villains to ruin me, unless, in ad- 
dition to the defences which I always possessed, I had 
secured the good-will of the men in power." ^ 

Cicero's conscience could not have been easy when 

he was driven to such laborious apologies. 

He spoke often of intending to withdraw 
into his family, and devoting his time entirely to lit- 
erature ; but he could not bring himself to leave the 
political ferment ; and he was possessed besides with 
a passionate desire to revenge himself on those who 
had injured him. An opportunity seemed to present 
itself. The persons whom he hated most, after 
Clodius, were the two consuls Gabinius and Piso, who 
had permitted his exile. They had both conducted 
themselves abominably in the provinces, which they 
had bought, he said, at the price of his blood. Piso 
had been sent to Macedonia, where he had allowed 
his army to perish by disease and neglect. The fron- 
tiers had been overrun with brigands, and the out- 
cries of his subjects had been audible even in Rome 
figainst his tyranny and incapacity. Gabinius, in 
Syria, had been more ambitious, and had exposed 
himself to an indignation more violent because more 
interested. At a hint from Pompey, he had restored 
Ptolemy to Egypt on his own authority and without 
waiting for the Senate's sanction, and he had snatched 
for himself the prize for which the chiefs of the 
Senate had been contending. He had broken the 

1 Ad Lentulum. Ad Fam. i. 9. 



Prosecution of Q-ahinius, 323 

law by leading his legions over the frontier. He had 
defeated the feeble Alexandrians, and the gratified 
Ptolemy had rewarded him with the prodigious sum 
f)f ten thousand talents — a million and a half of 
English money. While he thus enriched himself he 
had irritated the knights, who might otherwise na\e 
supported him, by quarrelling with the Syrian revenue 
farmers, and, according to p"opular scandal, he had 
plundered the province worse than it had been 
plundered even by the pirates. 

When so fair a chance was thrown in his way, 
Cicero would have been more than human if he had 
not availed himself of it. He moved in the Senate 
for the recall of the two offenders, and in the finest 
of his speeches he laid bare their reputed iniquities. 
His position was a delicate one — because the sena- 
torial party, could they have had their way, would 
have recalled Csesar also. Gabinius was Pompey's 
favorite, and Piso was Caesar's father-in-law. Cicero 
had no intention of quarrelling with Cassar ; between 
his invectives, therefore, he was careful to interweave 
the most elaborate compliments to the conqueror of 
Gaul. He dwelt with extraordinary clearness on the 
value of Ca3sar's achievements. The conquest of Gaul, 
he said, was not the annexation of a province. It 
was the dispersion of a cloud which had threatened 
Italy from the days of Brennus. To recall Csesar 
would be madness. He wished to remain only to 
complete his Avork ; the more honor to him that he 
wjis willing to let the laurels fade which were wait- 
ing for him at Rome, before he returned fco wear 
:hem. There were persons who would bring him 
back, because they did not love him. They would 
bring him back only to enjoy a triumph. Gaul had 



824 Ccesar, 

been the single danger to the Empire. Nature had 
fortified Italy by the Alps. The mountain barrier 
alone had allowed Rome to grow to its present great- 
ness, but the Alps might now sink into the earth. 
Italy had no more to fear.i 

The orator perhaps hoped that so splendid a vindi- 
cation of Cassar in the midst of his worst enemies 
might have purchased pardon for his onslaught on 
the baser members of the " Dynastic " faction. He 
found himself mistaken. His eagerness to revenge 
his personal wrongs compelled him to drink the bit- 
terest cup of humiliation which had yet been offered 
to him. He gained his immediate purpose. The two 
governors were recalled in disgrace, and Gabinins 
was impeached under the new Julian law for having 
restored Ptolemy without orders, and for the corrupt 
administration of his province. Cicero would natu- 
rally have conducted the prosecution ; but pressure 
of some kind was laid on, which compelled him to 
stand aside. The result of the trial on the first of 
the two indictments was another of those mockeries 
of justice which made the Roman law courts the jest 
of mankind. Pompey threw his shield over his in- 
strument. He used his influence freely. The Egyp- 
tian spoils furnished a fund to corrupt the judges. 
The speech for the prosecution was so weak as to in- 
vite a failure, and Gabinius was acquitted by a major- 
ity of purchased votes. " You ask me how I endure 
such things," Cicero bitterly wrote, in telling the 
Btory to Atticus ; " well enough, by Hercules, and I 
vim entirely pleased with myself. We have lost, my 
friend, not only the juice and blood, but even the 
color and shape, of a Commonwealth. No decent 

1 De Provindis ConsularUm». 



Acquittal of Q-ahinius, S25 

constitution exists, in which I can take a part. How 
can you put up with such a state of things ? you will 
say. Excellently well. I recollect how public affairs 
went a while ago, when I was myself in office, and 
how grateful people were to me. I am not distressed 
now, that the power is with a single man. Those are 
miserable who could not bear to see me successful. I 
find much to console me." ^ " Gabinius is acquitted," 
he wrote to his brother. — "The verdict is so infa- 
mous that it is thought he will be convicted on the 
other charge ; but, as you perceive, the constitution, 
the Senate, the courts, are all nought. There is no 
honor in any one of us. — Some persons, Sallust among 
them, say that I ought to have prosecuted him. I to 
risk my credit with such a jury ! what if I had acted, 
and he had escaped then ! but other motives influ- 
enced me. Pompey would have made a personal 
quarrel of it with me. He would have come into 
the city .2 — He would have taken up with Clodius 
again. I know that I was wise, and I hope that you 
agree with me. I owe Pompey nothing, and he owes 
much to me ; but in public matters (not to put it 
more strongly) he has not allowed me to oppose him ; 
and when I was flourishing and he was less powerful 
than he is now, he let me see what he could do. Now 
when I am not even ambitious of power, and the con- 
stitution is broken down, and Pompey is omnipotent, 
why should I contend with him ? Then, says Sallust, 
I ought to have pleased Pompey by defending Gabin- 
ius, as he was anxious that I should. A nice friend 
Sallust, who would have me push myself into danger- 
ous quarrels, or cover myself with eternal infamy ! "* 

1 To Attlcus, iv. 16. 

2 Pompey, as proconsul with a proviace, was residing outside the walls. 
• Ad Quinium Fratrem. iii. 4. 



826 Ocesar, 

Unha^ppy Cicero, wishing to act honorably, but 
without manliness to face the consequences ! He 
knew that it would be infamous f.^r him to defend 
Gabinius, yet at the second trial Cicero, who had led 
the attack on him in the Senate, and had \eaped in- 
vectives on him, the most bitter which he ever uttered 
against man, nevertheless actually did defend Gabin- 
ius. Perhaps he consoled himself with the certainty 
that his eloquence would be in vain, and that his ex- 
traordinary client this time could not escape convic- 
tion. Any way, he appeared at the bar as Gabinius's 
counsel. The Syrian revenue farmers were present, 
open-mouthed with their accusations. Gabinius was 
condemned, stripped of his spoils, and sent into ban- 
ishment. Cicero was left with his shame. Nor was 
this the worst. Tliere were still some dregs in the 
cup, which he was forced to drain. Publius Vatioius 
was a prominent leader of the military democratic 
party, and had often come in collision with Cicero. 
He had been tribune when CaBsar was consul, and had 
stood by him against the Senate and Bibulus. He 
had served in Gaul in Cesar's first cam-paigus, and 
had returned to Rome, at Cesar's instance, to enter 
for higher office. He had carried the prgetorship 
against Cato ; and Cicero in one of his speeches had 
painted him as another Clodius or Catiline. When 
the prsetorship was expired, he was prosecuted for cor- 
ruption ; and Cicero was once more compelled to ap- 
pear on the other side, and defend him, as he had 
done Gabinius. Csesar and Pompey, wishing, per- 
haps, to break completely into harness the brilliant 
but still half unmanageable orator, had so ordered, 
and Cicero had complied. He was ashamed, but he 
had still his points of satisfaction. It was a matter 



Cicero dissatisfied with his Position. 827 

of course that, as an advocate, he must praise the man 
whom, a year before, he had spattered with ignominy ; 
but he had the pleasure of feeling that he was reveng- 
ing hin.self on his conservative allies, who led the 
prosecuv/pn. " Why I praised Vatinius," he wrote 
to Lentulus, " I must beg you not to ask either in the 
case of this or of any other criminal. I put it to tlie 
judges, that since certain noble lords, my good friends, 
were too fond of my adversary (Clodius), and in the 
Senate would go apart with him under my own eyes, 
and would treat him with warmest affection, they 
must allow me to have my Publins (Vatinius), since 
they had theirs (Clodius), and give them a gentle 
stab in return for their cuts at me." ^ Vatinius was ac- 
quitted. Cicero was very miserable. " Gods and men 
approved," he said; but hisov^^n conscience condemned 
hiui, and at this time his one consolation, real or pre- 
tended, was the friendship of Ca^^sar. " Caesar's aft'ec- 
tionate letters," he told his brother, '' are my only 
pleasure ; I attach little consequence to his promises ; 
I do not thirst for honors, or regret my past glory. I 
value more the continuance of his good-will than the 
prospect of anything which he may do for me. I am 
withdrawing from public tuft'airs, and giving myself 
to literature. But I am broken-hearted, my dear 
brother ; — I am broken-hearted that the constitution 
is gone, that the courts of law are naught : and that 
now at my time of life, when I ought to be leading 
with authority in the Senate, I must be either busy 
in the Forum pleading, or occupying myself with my 
books at home. The ambition cf my boyhood — 

Aye to be first, and chief among my peers — 

b all departed. Of my enemies, I have left some un- 

1 Ad Familiarci, i. 9. 



328 Ccesar, 

assailed, and some I even defend. Not only I may 
not think as I like, but I may not hate as I like,^ and 
Caesar is the only person who loves me as I should 
wish to be loved, or, as some think, who desires to 
love me." ^ 

The position was the more piteous, because Cicero 
could not tell how events would fall out affcei all. 
Crassus was in the East, with uncertain prospects 
there. Caesar was in the midst of a dangerous war, 
and might be killed or might die. Pompey was but 
u weak vessel ; a distinguished soldier, perhaps, but 
without the intellect or the resolution to control a 
proud, resentful, and supremely unscrupulous aristoc- 
racy. In spite of Caesar's victories, his most enven- 
omed enemy, Domitius Ahenobarbus, had succeeded 
after all in carrying one of the consulships for the 
year 54. The popular party had secured the other, 
indeed ; but they had returned Appius Claudius, 
Clodius's brother, and this was but a poor consola- 
tion. In the year that was to follow, the conserva- 
tives had bribed to an extent which astonished the 
most C3aiical observers. Each season the elections 
were growing more corrupt ; but the proceedings on 
both sides in the fall ofs64 were the most audacious 
that had ever been known, the two reigning consuls 
taking part, and encouraging and assisting in scan- 
dalous bargains. " All the candidates have bribed," 
wrote Cicero ; " but they will be all acquitted, and 
no one will ever be found guilty again. The two 
consuls are branded with infamy." Memmius, the 
popular competitor, at Pompey 's instance, exposed in 

1 " Meum non modo animum, sed ne odium quidem esse liberum." — Ad 
Quintum Fratrem, iii. 5. 

2 See the story in a letter to Atticus, lib. iv. 16-17. 



Electoral Corruption. 829 

the Senate an arrangement which the consuls had 
entered into to secure the returns. The 

, , ™, B. C.63. 

names and signatures were produced. Ine 
scandal was monstrous, and could not be denied. 
The better kind of men began to speak of a Dicta- 
torship as the only remedy ; and although the two 
conservative candidates were declared elected for 53, 
and were allowed to enter on their offices, there was 
a general feeling that a crisis had arrived, and that 
a great catastrophe could not be ve^y far off. The 
form which it might assume was the problem of the 
hour. 

Cicero, speaking two years before on the broad 
conditions of his time, had used these remarkable 
words : *' No issue can be anticipated from discords 
among the leading men, except either universal ruin, 
or the rule of a conqueror, or a monarchy. There 
exists at present an unconcealed hatred implanted 
and fastened into the minds of our leading politi- 
cians. They are at issue among themselves. Op- 
portunities are caught for mutual injury. Those 
who are in the second rank watch for the chances of 
the time. Those who might do hotter are afraid of 
the words and designs of their enemies." ^ 

The discord had been suspended, and the intrigues 
temporarily checked, by the combination of CjBsar 
and Pompey with Crassus, the chief of the moneyed 
commoners. Two men of equal military reputation, 
and one of them from his greater age and older serv- 
ices expecting and claiming precedency, do not easily 
work together. For Pompey to witness the rising 
glory of Caesar, and to feel in his own person the su- 
perior ascendency of Caesar's character, without an 

^ De Haruspicum Resp.nsu. 



830 Ccesar. 

en.otion of jealousy, would have demanded a degre© 
of virtue which few men have ever possessed. They 
had been united so far by identity of conviction, by 
a military detestation of anarchy, by a common in- 
terest in wringing justice from the Senate for the 
army and people, by a pride in the greatness of their 
country, which they were determined to uphold. 
These motives, howeyer, might not long have borne 
the strain but for other ties, which had cemented 
their union. Pompey had married Caesar's daughter, 
to whom he Avas passionately attached ; and the per- 
sonal competition between them was neutralized by 
the third element of the capitalist party represented 
by Crassus, which if they quarrelled woold secure 
the supremacy of the faction to which Crassus at- 
tached himself. There was no jealousy on Csesar's 
part. There was no -occasion for it. Caesar's fame 
was rising. Pompey had added nothing to his past 
distinctions, and the glory pales which does not grow 
in lustre. No man who had once been the single ob- 
ject of admiration, who had tasted the delight of 
being the first in the eyes of his countrymen, could 
find himself compelled to share their applause with a 
younger rival without experiencing a pang. So far 
Pompey had borne the trial well. He was, on the 
whole, notwithstanding the Egyptian scandal, honor- 
able and constitutionally disinterested. He was im- 
measurably superior to the fanatic Cato, to the shifty 
Cicero, or the proud and worthless leaders of the sen- 
atorial oligarchy. Had the circumstances remained 
unchanged, the severity of the situation might have 
been overcome. But two misfortunes coming near 
upon one another broke the ties of family connection, 
aud by destroying the balance of parties laid Pom- 



Catastrophe in the Hast. 331 

pey open to the temptation of patrician intrigue. In 
the year 54 Caesar's great mother Aureha, and his 
daughter Julia, Pom pey 's wife, both died. A child 
which Julia had borne to Pom pey died also, and 
the powerful if silent influence of two remarkable 
women, and the joint interest in an infant, who 
would have been Caesar's heir as well as Pompey's, 
were swept away together. 

The political link was broken immediately after by 
a public disaster unequalled since the last consular 
army was overthrown by the Gauls on the Rhone ; 
and the capitalists, left without a leader, drifted 
away to their natural allies in the Senate. Crassus 
had taken the field in the East, with a wild ambition 
of becoming in his turn a great conqueror. At first 
all had gone well with him. He had raised a vast 
treasure. He had plundered the wealthy temples in 
Phoenicia and Palestine to fill his military chest. 
He had able officers with him ; not the least among 
them his son Publius Crassus, who had served with 
such distinction under Csesar. He crossed the Eu- 
phrates at the head of a magnificent army, expecting 
to carry all before him with the ease of an Alexan- 
der. Relying on his own idle judgment, he was 
tempted in the midst of a burning summer into the 
waterless plains of Mesopotamia ; and on the 15th of 
June the great Roman millionnaire met his miserable 
end, the whole force, with the exception of a few 
scattered cohorts, being totally annihilated. 

The catastrophe in itself was terrible. The Par- 
thians had not provoked the war. The East was left 
defenceless ; and the natural expectation was that, in 
their just revenge, they might carry fire and sword 
through Asia Minor and Syria. It is not the least 



31)2 Ccesar. 

remarkable sign of tlie times that the danger failed 
to touch the patriotism of the wretched factions in 
Kome. The one thought of the leaders of the Senate 
was to turn the opportunity to advantage, wrest the 
constitution free from- military dictation, shake off 
the detested laws of Csesar, and revenge themselves 
on the author of them. The hope was in Pompey.' 
If Pompey could be won over from Cassar, the army 
would be divided. Pompey, they well knew, unless 
lie had a stronger head than his own to guide him, 
could be used till the victory was won, and then be 
thrust aside. It was but too easy to persuade him 
that he was the greatest man in the Empire ; and 
that as the chief of a constitutional government, and 
with the Senate at his side, he would inscribe his 
name in the annals of his country as the restorer of 
Roman liberty. 

The intrigue could not be matured immediately. 
The aristocracy had first to overcome their own ani- 
mosities against Pompey, and Pompey himself was 
generous, and did not yield to the first efforts of se- 
duction. The smaller passions were still at work 
among the baser senatorial chiefs, and the appetite 
for provinces and pillage. The Senate, even while 
Crassus was alive, had carried the consulships for 53 
by the most infamous corruption. They meant now 
to attack Csesar in earnest, and their energies were 
addressed to controlling the elections for the next 
year. Milo was one of the candidates ; and Cicero, 
"who was watching the political current, reverted to 
his old friendship for him, and became active in the 
canvass Milo was not a creditable ally. He already 
owed half a million of money, and Cicero, who was 
anxious for his reputation, endeavored to keep him 



Milo. ' 333 

within the bounds of decency. But Milo's mind was 
fastened on the province which was to redeem his fort- 
unes, and he flung into bribery what was left of his 
wrecked credit with the desperation of a gambler. 
He had not been pragtor, and thus was not legally 
fciigible for the consulate. This, however, was for- 
given. He had been sedile in 54, and as sedile he 
had already been magnificent in prodigality. But to 
secure the larger prize, he gave as a private citizen 
the most gorgeous entertainment which even in that 
monstrous age the city had yet wondered at. '* Doub- 
ly, trebly foolish of him," thought Cicero, '' for he 
was not called on to go to such expense, and he has 
not the means." " Milo makes me very anxious," 
he wrote to his brother. " 1 hope all will be made 
right by his consulship. I shall exert myself for him 
as much as I did for myself;^ but he is quite mad," 
Cicero added; "he has spent 30,000?. on his games." 
Mad, but still, in Cicero's opinion, well fitted for the 
consulship, and likely to get it. • All the " good," in 
common with himself, were most anxious for Milo's 
success. The people would vote for him as a reward 
for the spectacles, and the young and influential for 
his efforts to secure their favor.^ 

The reappearance of the " Boni," the " Good," in 
Cicero's letters marks the turn of the tide again in 
his own mind. The " good," or the senatorial party, 
were once more the objects of his admiration. The 
affection for Caesar was passing off. 

A more objectionable candidate than Milo could 
hardly have been found. He was no better than a 

1 " Angit unus Milo. Sed velim finem afEerat consulatus: in quo enitai 
BOB minus, quara sum enisus in hostro." — Ad Quintum Fratrem, ill, 9. 

2 Ad Familiarts^ ii. 6. 



834 * . Gcesar. 

patrician gladiator, and the choice of such a man wa3 
a sufficient indication of the Senate's intentions. The 
popular party led by the tribunes made a sturdy re- 
sistance. There were storms in the Curia, tribunes 
imprisoning senators, and the senate tribunes. Army 
officers suggested the election of military tribunes 
(lieutenant-generals), instead of consuls ; and when 
they failed, they invited Pompey to declare himself 
Dictator. The Senate put on mourning, as a sign of 
approaching calamity. Pompey calmed their fears 
by declining so ambitious a position. But as it was 
obvious that Milo's chief object was a province which 
he might misgovern, Pompey forced the Senate to 
pass a resolution, that consuls and prsetors must wait 
five years from their term of office before a province 
was to be allotted to them. The temptation to cor- 
ruption might thus in some degree be diminished. 
But senatorial resolutions did not pass for much, and 
what a vote had enacted a vote could repeal. The 
agitation continued. The tribunes, when the time 
came, forbade the elections. The year expired. The 
old magistrates went out of office, and Rome was left 
again without legitimate functionaries to carr}'- on the 
government. All the offices fell vacant together. 
Now once more Clodius was reappearing on the 
scene. He had been silent for two years, 

B. C. 52. *^ 

content or constrained to leave the control 
of the democracy to the three chiefs. One of them 
was now gone. The more advanced section of the 
party was beginning to distrust Pompey. Clodius, 
their favorite representative, had been put forward 
for the pr^torship, wliile Milo was aspiring to be 
made consul, and Clodius had prepared a fresh batch 
Df laws to be submitted to the sovereign people ; one 



Rome in a State of Anarchy. 335 

of which (if Cicero did not misrepresent it to in- 
flame the aristocracy) was a measure of some kind 
for the enfranchisement of the sLives, or perhaps of 
tlie sons of slaves.^ He was as popular as ever. He 
chiimed to be acting for Caesar, and was held certain 
of success ; if he was actually praetor, such was his 
extraordinary influence, and such was the condition 
of things in the city, tliat if Milo was out of the way 
he could secure consuls of his own way of thinking, 
and thus have the whole constitutional power in his 
hands.^ 

Thus both sides had reason for fearing and post- 
poning the elections. Authority, which had been 
weak before, was now extinct. Rome was in a state 
of formal anarchy, and the factions of Milo and Clo- 
dius fought daily, as before, in the streets, with no 
one to interfere with them. 

Violent humors come naturally to a violent end. 
Milo had long before threatened to kill Clo- j^nuarv 14 
dius. Cicero had openly boasted of his ^•^•o2. 
friend's intention to do it, and had spoken of Clodius 
in the Senate itself as Milo's predestined victim. On 
the evening of the 13th January, while the uncer- 
tainty about the elections was at its height, Clodius 
was returning from his country house, which was a 
few miles from Rome on " the Appian Way." ^lilo 
happened to be travelling accidentally down the same 

1 " Incidebantur jam clomi leges quae nos no?tris «ervis addicerent 

Oppressisset omnia, possderet, teneret lege nova, quje est iiiventa apud 
eum cum reliquis legibus Clodianis. Servos nostros libertbs sues fecis- 
set." — Pro Milune, 32, 33. These strong expressions can hardly refer to 
a proposed enfranchisement of the libertini, or sons of freedmen, like Hor- 
ace's father. 

=2 "Cfcsaris potentiam suam esse dicebat An consules in practore 

coercendo fortes fuissent? Priuium, Miloue occiso habuisset suos consu- 
tes." - Pro MUone, 33. 



336 Ocesar. 

road, on his way to Lanuvium (Civita Indovina), 
and tlie two rivals and their escorts met. Milo's 
party was the largest. The leaders passed one an- 
other, evidently not intending a collision, but their 
followers, who were continually at sword's point, 
came naturally to blows. Clodius rode back to see 
what was going on ; he was attacked and wounded» 
and took refuge in a house on the roadside. The 
temptation to make an end of his enemy was too 
strong for Milo to resist. To have hurt Clodius 
would, he thought, be as dangerous as to have made 
an end of him. His blood was up. The " predes- 
tined victim," who had tliwarted him for so many 
years, was within his reach. The house was forced 
open. Clodius was dragged out bleeding, and was. 
dispatched, and the body was left lying where he fell, 
where a senator, named Sextus Tedius, who was pass- 
ing an hour or two after, found it, and carried it the 
same night to Rome. The little which is known of 
Clodius comes only through Cicero's denunciations, 
which formed or colored later Roman traditions ; and 
it is thus difficult to comprehend the affection which 
the people felt for him ; but of the fact there can be 
no doubt at all ; he was the representative of their 
political opinions, the embodiment, next to Caesar, of 
their practical hopes ; and his murder was accepted as 
a declaration of an aristocratic war upon them, and 
the first blow in another massacre.' On the following 
day, in the winter morning, the tribunes brought the 
bod}^ into the Forum. A vast crowd had collected 
to see it, and it was easy to lash them into fury. 
They dashed in the doors of the adjoining Senate- 
house, they carried in the bier, made a pile of chairs 
and benches and tables, and burnt all that remained 



Trial of Milo. 337 

of Clodius in the ashes of the Senate-house itself. 
The adjoining temples were consumed in the confla- 
gration. The Senate collected elsewhere. They put 
on a bold front, they talked of naming an Intefrex 
— which they ought to have done before — and of 
holding the elections instantly, now that Clodius was 
gone. Milo still hoped, and the aristocracy still hoped 
for Milo. But the storm was too furious. Pompey 
came in with a body of troops, restored order, and 
took command of the city. The preparations for the 
election were quashed. Pompey still declined the 
Dictatorship, but he was named, or he named him- 
self, sole consul, and at once appointed a commission 
to inquire into the circumstances of Milo's canvass, 
and the corruption w^hich had gone along with it. 
Milo himself was arrested and put on his trial for the 
murder. Judges were chosen who could be trusted, 
and to prevent intimidation the court was occupied 
by soldiers. Cicero undertook his friend's defence, 
but was unnerved by the stern, grim faces with which 
he was surrounded. The eloquent tongue forgot its 
office. He stammered, blundered, and sat down.^ 
The consul expectant was found guilty and banished, 
to return a few years after like a hungry wolf in the 
civil war, and to perish as he deserved. Pompey 's 
justice was even-handed. He punished Milo, but the 
Senate-house and temples were not to be destroyed 
without retribution equally severe. The tribunes 
who had led on the mob were deposed, and suffered 
various penalties. Pompey acted with a soldier's ab- 
horrence of disorder, and so far, he did what Caesar 

1 The Oratiopro Milone, published afterwards by Cicero, was the speech 
which he intended to deliver and did not. 
22 



338 Cmar, 

approved and would himself have done in Pompey's 
place. 

But there followed sj'-mptoms which showed that 
there were secret influences at work with Pompey, 
and that he was not the man which he had been. 
He had taken the consulate alone ; but a single con* 
sul was an anomaly ; as soon as order was restoied it 
was understood that he meant to clioose a colleague ; 
and Senate and people were watching to see whom 
he would select as an indication of his future atti- 
tude. Half the world expected that he would name 
Caesar, but half the world was disappointed. He 
took Metellus Scipio, who had been the Senate's 
second candidate by the side of Milo, and had been 
as deeply concerned in bribery as Milo himself ; 
shortly after, and with still more significance, he re- 
placed Julia by Metellus Scipio's daughter, the widow 
of young Publius Crassus, who had fallen with his 
father. 

Pompey, however, did not break with Cassar, and 
did not appear to intend to break with him. Com- 
munications passed between them on the matter of 
the consulship. The tribunes had pressed him as 
Pompey's colleague. Ciesar himself, being then in 
the North of Italy, had desired, on being consulted, 
that the demand might not be insisted on. He had 
work still before him in Gaul which he could not 
leave unfinished ; but he made a request himself that 
must be noticed, since the civil war formally grew 
out of it, and Pompey gave a definite pledge, which 
was afterwards broken. 

One of the engagements at Lucca had been that 
when Csesar's command should have expired he was 
to be again consul. His term had still three years to 



Promua of a Second Consulship to Coesar. 889 

run ; but many things might happen in three years. 
A party in the Senate were bent on his recall. They 
might succeed in persuading the people to consent to 
it. And C?esar felt, as Ponipey had felt before him, 
that, in the unscrupulous humor of his enemies at 
Kome, he might be impeached or killed on his return, 
as Clodius had been, if he came back a private citizen 
unprotected by office to sue for his election. There- 
fore he had stipulated at Lucca that his name might 
be taken and that votes might be given for him while 
he was still with his army. On Pompey's taking the 
power into his hands, Ca3sar, while abandoning any 
present claim to share it, reminded him of this under- 
standing, and required at the same time that it should 
be renewed in some authoritative form. The Senate, 
glad to escape on any terms from the present con- 
junction of the men whom they hoped to divide, ap- 
peared to consent. Cicero himself made a journey to 
Ravenna to see Csesar about it and make a positive 
arrangement with him. Pompey submitted the con- 
dition to the assembh^ of the people, by whom it was 
solemnly ratified. Every precaution was observed 
which would give the promise that Csesar might be 
elected consul in his absence the character of a bind- 
ing engagement.^ 

It was observed with some surprise that Pompe}^ 
not long after, proposed and carried a law forbidding 
elections of this irregular kind, and insisting freshly 

1 Suetonius, De Vitd Julii Ccesaris. Cicero again and asfain acknowl- 
edges in his letters to Atticus that the engagement had really been made. 
"Writing to Atticus (vii. 1), Cicero says: " Non est locus ad tergiversan- 
dum. Contra Cpesarem ? Ubi illae sunt densse dextene? Nam ut illi hoc 
Uceret adjuvi rogatus ab ipso Ravennte de Caelio tribuno plebis. Ab ipso 
autem ? Etiam a Cuaio nostro in illo divino tertio ccnsulatu. Aliter 
^nsero ? " 



340 Ccesar. 

on the presence of th*e candidates in person. Caesar's 
case was, not reserved as an exception or in any way 
alluded to. And when a question was asked on the 
subject, the excuse given was that it had been over- 
looked by accident. Such accidents require to be in- 
terpreted by the use which is made of them. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

The conquest of Ganl had been an exploit of ex- 
traordinary military difficulty. The intri- 
cacy of the problem had been enhanced by 
the venom of a domestic faction, to which the victo- 
ries of a democratic general were more unwelcome 
than national disgrace. The discomfiture of Crassus 
had been more pleasant news to the Senate than the 
defeat of Ariovistua, and the passionate hope of the 
aristocracy had been for some opportunity which 
would enable them to check Caesar in^his career of 
conquest and bring him home to dishonor and per- 
haps impeachment. They liad failed. The efforts 
of the Gauls to maintain or recover their indepen- 
dence had been successively beaten down, and at the 
close of the summer of 53 CaBsar had returned to the 
North of Italy, believing that the organization of the 
province which he had added to the Empire was all 
that remained to be accomplished. But Rom:in civil- 
ians had followed in the van of the armies. Roman 
traders had penetrated into the towns on the Seine 
and the Loire, and the curious Celts had learnt from 
them the distractions of their new rulers. Ciesar's 
situation was as well understood among the ^dui 
and the Sequani as in the clubs and. coteries of the 
capital of the Empire, and the turn of events was 
watched with equal anxiety. The victory over Sabi- 
aus, sharply avenged as it had been, kept alive the 
hope that their independence might yet be recovered. 



342 



Ccesar. 



The disaffection of the preceding summer had been 
trampled out, but the ashes of it were still smoulder- 
ing ; and when it became known that Clodius, who 
was regarded as Caesar's tribune, had been killed, 
that the Senate was in power again, and that Italy 
was threatened with civil convulsions, their passion- 
ate patriotism kindled once more into flame. Sudden 
in their resolutions, they did not pause to watch how 
the balance would incline. Caesar was across the 
Alps. Either he would be deposed, or civil war 
would detain him in Italy. His legions were scat- 
tered between Treves, Auxerre, and Sens, far from 
the Roman frontier. A simultaneous rising would 
cut them off from support, and they could be starved 
out or overwhelmed in detail, as Sabinus had been at 
Tongres and Cicero had almost been at Charleroy. 
Intelligence was swiftly exchanged. The chiefs of 
all the tribes established communications with each 
other. They had been deeply affected by the execu- 
tion of Acco, the patriotic leader of the Carnutes. 
The death of Acco was an intimation that they were 
Roman subjects, and were to be punished as traitors 
if they disobeyed a Roman command. They buried 
their own dissensions. Except among the ^dui 
there was no longer a Roman faction and a patriot 
faction. The whole nation was inspired by a simul- 
taneous impulse to snatch the opportunity, and unite 
in a single effort to assert their freedom. The under- 
Btanding was complete. A day was fixed for a uni- 
versal rising. The Carnutes began by a massacre 
which would cut off possibility of retreat, and, in re- 
venge for Acco, slaughtered a party of Roman civil- 
ians who were engaged in business at Grien?- A sys- 

1 Above Orleans, on the Loire. 



Vercingetorix, 343 

tern of signals had been quietly arranged. The 
massacre at Gien was known in a few hoars in the 
South, and the Auvergne countr^^ which had hitherto 
been entirely peaceful, rose in reply, under a young 
high-born chief named Vercingetorix. Gergovia, 
the principal town of the Arverni, was for the mo- 
inent undecided.^ The elder men there, who had 
known the Romans long, were against immediate ac- 
tion ; but VercJngetorix carried the people away with 
him. His name had not appeared in the earlier cam- 
paigns, but his father had been a man of note beyond 
the boundaries of Auvergne; and he must himself 
have had a wide reputation among the Gauls, for 
everywhere, from the Seine to the Garonne, he was 
accepted as chief of the national confederacy. Ver- 
cingetorix had high abilitj^ and real organizing pow- 
ers. He laid out a plan for the general campaign. 
He fixed a contingent of men and arms which each 
tribe was to supply, and failure brought instantane- 
ous punishment. Mild offences were visited with the 
loss of eyes or ears ; neglect of a more serious sort 
with death by fire in the wicker tower. Between 
enthusiasm and terror he had soon an army at his 
command, which he could increase indefinitely at his 
need. Part he left to watch the Roman province 
and prevent Caesar, if he should arrive, from passing 
through. With part he went himsell: to watch the 
-Sdui, the great central race, where Roman authority 
had hitherto prevailed unshaken, but among whom, 
as he well knew, he had the mass of the people on 
his side. The ^dui were hesitating. They called 
their levies under arms, as if to oppose him, but they 
withdrew them again ; and to waver at such a mo- 
ment was to yield to the stream. 

- Four miles from Clermont, on the Allier, in the Puv-de-D6me 



844 Om%ar. 

The GaTils liad not calculated wifhout reasoju on 
Csesar's embarrassments. The death of Glodius had 
been followed by the burning of the Senate-liouse 
and by many weeks of anarchy. To leave Italy at 
such a moment might be to leave it a prey to faction 
or civil war. His anxiety was relieved at last by 
hearing that Pompey had acted, and that order was 
restored ; and seeing no occasion for his own inter- 
ference, and postponing the agitation for his second 
consulship, he hurried back to encounter the final and 
convulsive effort of the Celtic race to preserve their 
liberties. The legions were as yet in no danger. 
They were dispersed in the North of France, far 
from the scene of the present rising, and the North- 
ern tribes bad suffered too desperately in the past 
years to be in a condition to stir without assistance. 
But how was Csssar to join them? The garrisons in 
the province could not be moved. If he sent for the 
army to come across to him, Vercingetorix would at- 
tack them on the march, and he could not feel confi- 
dent of the result ; while the line of the old frontier 
of the province was in the hands of the insurgents, 
or of tribes who could not be trusted to resist the 
temptation, if he passed through himself without 
more force than the province could supply. But 
Caesar had a resource which never failed him in the 
daring swiftness of his own movements. He sent for 
the troops which were left beyond the Alps. He had 
a few levies with him to fill the gaps in the old le- 
gions, and after a rapid survey of the stations on the 
provincial frontier he threw himself upon the passes 
v)f the Cevennes. It was still winter. The snow lay 
six feet thick on the mountains, and the roads at that 
season were considered impracticable eyen for single 



Revolt of GrauL 845 

travellers. The Auvergne rebels dreamt of nothing 
so little as of Csesar's coming upon them at such a 
time and from such a quarter. He forced his way. 
He fell on them while they were lying in imagined 
security, Vercingetorix and his army being absent 
watching the -^dui, and, letting loose his cavalry, 
he laid their country waste. But Vercingetorix, he 
knew, would fly back at the news of his arrival ; and 
he had already made his further plans. He formed 
a strong intrenched camp, where he left Decimus 
Brutus in charge, telling him that he would return 
as quickly as possible ; and, unknown to any one, 
lest the troops should lose courage at parting with 
him, he flew across through an enemy's country with 
a handful of attendants to Vienne, on the Rhone, 
where some cavalry from the province had been sent 
to wait for him. Vercingetorix, supposing him still 
to be in the Auvergne, thought only of the camp of 
Brutus ; and Csesar, riding day and night through 
the doubtful territories of the ^dui, reached the two 
legions which were quartered near Auxerre. Thence 
he cent for the rest to join him, and he was at the 
head of his army before Vercingetorix knew that 
only Brutus was in front of him. The JEdui, he 
trusted, would now remain faithful. But the problem 
before him was still most intricate. The grass had 
not begun to grow. Rapid movement was essential 
to prevent the rebel confederacy from consolidating 
"itself ; but rapid movements with a large force re- 
quired supplies ; and whence were the supplies to 
come ? Some risks had to be run, but to delay was 
the most dangerous of all. On the defeat of the 
Helvetii, Csesar had planted a colony of them at 
Gorgobines, near Nevers, on the Loire. These col- 



846 CcBsar. 

onists, called Boii, had refused to take part in the 
rising ; and Vercingetorix, turning in contempt from 
Brutus, had gone off to punish them. Csesar ordered 
the JEdui to furnish his commissariat, sent word to 
the Boii that he was comiug to their relief, swept 
tlirough the Seuones, that he might leave no enemy 
in his real', and then advanced on Gien, where the 
Roman traders had been murdered, and which the 
Carnutes still occupied in force. There was a bridge 
there over the Loire, by which they tried to escape 
in the night. Csssar had beset the passage. He took 
the whole of them prisoners, plundered and burnt 
the town, gave the spoil to his troops, and then 
crossed the river and went up to help the Boii. He 
took Nevers. Vercingetorix, who was hastening to 
its relief, ventured his first battle with him ; but the 
cavalry, on which the Gauls most depended, were 
scattered by Csesar's German horse. He was en- 
tirely beaten, and Caesar turned next to Avaricum 
(Bourges), a rich and strongly fortified town of the 
Bituriges. From past experience C^sar had gath- 
ered that the Gauls were easily excited and as easily 
discouraged. If he could reduce Bourges, he hoped 
that this part of the country would return to its al- 
legiance. Perhaps he thought that Vercingetorix 
himself would give up the struggle. But he had to 
deal with a spirit and with a man different from any 
which he had hitherto encountered. Disappointed 
in his political expectations, baffled in strategy, and 
now defeated in open fight, the young chief of the 
Arverni had only learnt that he had taken a wrong 
mode of carrying on the war, and that he was wast- 
ing his real advantages. Battles in the field he saw 
that he would lose. But the Roman numbers were 



Revolt of Gaul. 347 

limited, and his were infinite. Tens of thousands o£ 
gallant young men, with their light, active horses, 
were eager for any work on which he might set them. 
They could scour the country far and wide. They 
could cut off Caesar's supplies. They could turn 
the fields into a blackened wilderness before him on 
whichever side he might tiu-n. The hearts of the 
people were with him. They consented to a univer- 
sal sacrifice. They burnt their farmsteads. I'hey 
burnt their villages. Twenty towns (so called) of 
the Bituriges were consumed in a single day. The 
tribes adjoining caught the enthusiasm. The horizon 
at night was a ring of blazing fires. Vercingetorix 
was for burning Bourges also ; but it was the sacred 
home of the Bituriges, the one spot which they im- 
plored to be allowed to save, the most beautiful city 
in all Gaul. Rivers defended it on three sides, and 
on the fourth there were swamps and marshes which 
could be passed only by a narrow ridge. Within the 
walls the people had placed the best of their prop- 
erty, and Vercingetorix, against his judgment, con- 
sented, in pit}^ for their entreaties, that Avaricum 
should be defended. A strong garrison was left in- 
side. Vercingetorix intrenched himself in the for- 
ests sixteen miles distant, keeping watch over Caesar's 
communications. The place could only be taken by 
regular approaches, during which the army had to be 
fed. The JEdui were growing negligent. The feeble 
Boii, grateful, it seemed, for Caesar's treatment of 
them, exerted themselves to the utmost, but their 
umall resources were soon exhausted. For many days 
the legions were without bread. The cattle had been 
driven into the woods. It came at last to actual fam- 
ine.^ " But not one word was heard from them," 
I "Extrema fames." —X>e B«M. GaU. vii. 17. 



848 Ccesar, 

says C^sar, " unworthy of the majesty of the Roman 
people or their own earlier victories." He told them 
that if the distress became unbearable he would raise 
the siege. With one voice they entreated him to per- 
severe. They had served many years with him, they 
said, and had never abandoned any enterprise which 
they had undertaken. They were ready to endure 
any degree of hardship before they would leave un- 
avenged their countrymen who had been murdered 
at Gien. 

Vercingetorix, knowing that the Romans were in 
difficulties, ventured nearer. CiBsar surveyed his po- 
sition. It had been well chosen behind a deep morass. 
The legions clamored to be allowed to advance and 
attack him, but a victory, he saw, would be dearly 
purchased. No condemnation could be too severe for 
him, he said, if he did not hold the lives of his sol- 
diers dearer than his own interest,^ and he led them 
back without indulging their eagerness. 

The siege work was unexpectedly difficult. The 
inhabitants of the Loire country were skilled artisans, 
trained in mines and iron works. The walls, built of 
alternate layers of stone and timber, were forty feet 
in thickness, and could neither be burnt nor driven 
in with the ram. The town could be taken only 
with the help of an agger — a bank of turf and fag- 
gots raised against the wall of sufficient height to 
overtop the fortifications. The weather was cold and 
wet, but the legions worked with such a will that in 
twenty-five days they had raised their bank at last, a 
hundred yards in width and eighty feet high. As 
the work drew near its end Caesar himself lay out all 

1 " Summa se iniquitatis coulemnavi debere nisi eorum vitam suS, salut« 
Uabeat cariorem." 



Siege of BourgeB. 849 

night among the men, encouraging them. One morn- 
ing at daj^break he observed that the agger was smok- 
ing. The ingenious Gauls had undermined it and 
Bet it on fire. At the same moment they appeared 
along the walls with pitch-balls, torches, faggots, 
which they hurled in to feed the flames. There was 
an instant of confusion, but Csesar uniformly had tw o 
legions under arms while the rest were working. 
The Gauls fought with a courage which called out 
his warm admiration. He watched them at the 
points of greatest danger falling under the shots from 
the scorpions, and others stepping undaunted into 
their places to fall in the same way. Their valor 
was unavailing. They were driven in, and the flames 
were extinguished ; the agger was level with the 
walls, and defence was no longer possible. The gar- 
rison intended to slip away at night through the ruins 
to join their friends outside. The wailing of the 
women was heard in the Roman camp, and escape 
was made impossible. The morning after, in a tem- 
pest of rain and wind, the place was stormed. The 
legionaries, excited by the remembrance of Gien and 
the long resistance, slew every human being that they 
found, men, women, and children all alike. Out of 
forty thousand who were within the walls eight hun- 
dred only, that had fled at the first sound of the at- 
tack, made their way to the camp of Vercingetorix. 

Undismayed by the calamity, Vercingetorix made 
use of it to sustain the determination of his followers. 
He pointed out to them that he had himself opposed 
the defence. The Romans had defeated them, nob 
])y superior courage, but by superior science. The 
heart of the whole nation was united to force the 
Romans out of Gaul, and they had only to persevere 



850 Ccesar. 

in a course of action where science would be useless, 
to be sure of success in the end. He fell back upon 
his own country, taking special care of the poor creat- 
ures who had escaped from the carnage ; and the ef- 
fect of the storming of Bourges was to make the na- 
tional enthusiasm hotter and fiercer than before. 

The Romans found in the town large magazines of 
corn and other provisions, which had been laid in for 
the siege, and Caesar remained there some days to re- 
fresh his troops. The winter was now over. The 
jEdui were giving him anxiety, and as soon as he 
could he moved to Decize, a frontier town belonging 
to them on the Loire, almost in the very centre of 
France. The anti-Roman faction were growing in 
influence. He called a council of the principal persons, 
and, to secure the fidelity of so important a tribe, he 
deposed the reigning chief and appointed another 
who had been nominated by the Druids.^ He lect- 
ured the ^dui on their duty, bade them furnish him 
with ten thousand men, who were to take charge of 
the commissariat, and then divided his army. La- 
bienus, with four legions, was sent to compose the 
country between Sens and Paris. He himself, with 
the remaining six legions, ascended the right bank 
of the Allier towards Gergovia in search of Vercinget- 
orix. The bridges on the Allier were broken, but 
Csesar seized and repaired one of them and carried 
his army over. 

The town of Gergovia stood on a high plateau, 
where the rivers rise which run into the Loire on one 
side and into the Dordogne on the other. The sides 
of the hill are steep, and only accessible at a very few 
places, and the surrounding neighborhood is broken 

1 De Bdl. Gall. vu. 33. 



Siege of Q-ergovia. 351 

■with rocky valleys. Vercingetorix lay in force out- 
side, but in a situation where he could not be attacked 
except at disadvantage, and with his communication 
with the fortress secured. He was departiug again 
from his general plan for the campaign in allowing 
Gergovia to be defended ; but it was the central home 
of his own tribe, and the result showed that he was 
right in believing it to be impregnable. Ciesar saw 
that it was too strong to be stormed, and that it 
could only be taken after long operations. After a 
few skirmishes he seized a spur of the plateau which 
cut off the garrison from their readiest water-supply, 
and he formed an intrenched camp upon it. He 
was studying the rest of the problem when bad news 
came that the ^dui were unsteady again. The ten 
thousand men had been raised as he had ordered, but 
on their way to join him they had murdered the Ro- 
man ofiicers in charge of them, and were preparing to 
go over to Vercingetorix. Leaving two legions to 
guard his works, he intercepted the iEduan contin- 
gent, took them prisoners, and protected their lives. 
In his absence Vercingetorix had attacked the camp 
with determined fury. The fighting had been des- 
perate, and Caesar only returned in time to save it. 
The reports from the ^dui were worse and worse. 
The patriotic faction had the upper hand, and with 
vhe same passionate determination to commit them- 
selves irrecoverably, which had been shown before at 
Gien, they had massacred every Roman in their ter- 
ritory. It was no time for delaying over a tedioua 
siege : Caesar was on the point of raising it, when ac- 
cident brought on a battle under the walls. An op- 
portunity seemed to offer itself of capturing the place 
by escalade, which part of the army attempted con- 



852 Ccesar, 

trary to orders. They fought with more than their 
usual gallantry. The whole scene was visible from 
the adjoining hills, the Celtic women, with long, 
streaming hair, wildly gesticulating on the walls. 
The Romans were driven back with worse loss than 
they had yet met with in Gaul. Forty-six officers 
and seven hundred men had been killed. 

Ctesar was never more calm than under a reverse. 
He addressed the legions the next day. He compli- 
mented their courage, but he said it was for the gen- 
eral and not for them to judge when assaults should 
be tried. He saw the facts of the situation exactly as 
they were. His army was divided. Labienus was 
far away with a separate command. The whole of 
Gaul was in flames. To persevere at Gergovia would 
only be obstinacy, and he accepted the single military 
failure which he met with when present in person 
through the whole of his Gallic campaign. 

Difficulties of all kinds were now thickening. Cae- 
sar had plac'ed magazines in Nevers, and had trusted 
them to an jEduan garrison. The ^duans burnt the 
town and carried the stores over the Loire to their 
own strongest fortress, Bibracte (Mont Beauvray). 
The river had risen from the melting of the snows, and 
could not be crossed without danger ; and to feed the 
army in its present position was no longer possible. 
To retreat upon the province would be a confession 
of defeat. The passes of the Cevennes would be 
swarming with enemies, and Labienus with his four 
legions in the west might be cut off. With swift de- 
cision he marched day and night to the Loire. He 
found a ford where the troops could cross with the 
water at their armpits. He sent his horse over and 
cleared the banks. The army passed safely. Food 



Lahienus on the Seine. 853 

enough and in plenty was found in the ^duans' coun- 
try, and without waiting he pressed on towards Sens 
to reunite his forces. He understood the Gauls, and 
foresaw what must have happened. 

Labienus, when sent on his separate command, had 
made Sens his head-quarters. All down the Seine 
the country was in insurrection. Leaving the new 
Italian levies at the station, he went with his experi- 
enced troops down the left bank of the river till he 
came to the Essonne. He found the Gauls in 
trenched on the other side, and, without attempting 
to force the passage, he marched back to Melun, 
where he repaired a bridge which the Gauls had 
broken, crossed over, and descended without interrup- 
tion to Paris. The town had been burnt, and the 
enemy were watching him from the further bank. 
At this moment he heard of the retreat from Gergo- 
via, and of the rebellion of the ^diii. Such news, 
he understood at once, would be followed by a rising 
in Belgium. Report had said that Ccesar was falling 
back on the province. He did not believe it. Csesar, 
he knew, would not desert him. His own duty, there- 
fore, was to make his way back to Sens. But to 
leave the army of Gauls to accompany his retreat 
across the Seine, with the tribes rising on all sides, 
was to expose himself to the certainty of being inter- 
cepted. '* In these sudden difficulties," says Ccesar, 
'Mie took counsel from the valor of his mind.''^ He 
had brought a fleet of barges with him from Melun. 
These he sent down un perceived to a point at the 
bend of the river four miles below Paris, and directed 
them to wait for him there. When night fell he de- " 

1 " Tantis subito difficultatibus objectis ab animi virtute consilium pe- 
tebat." 

23 



354 Ccssar, 

tached a few cohorts with orders to go up the river 
with boats as if they were retreating, splashing their 
oars, and making as much noise as possible. He him- 
self with three legions stole silently in the darkness 
to his barges, and passed over without being observed. 
The Gauls, supposing the whole army to be in flight 
for Sens, were breaking up their camp to follow in 
boisterous confusion. Labienus fell upon them, tell- 
ing the Romans to fight as if Ceesar was present in 
person ; and the courage with which the Gauls fought 
in their surprise only made the overthrow more com- 
plete. The insurrection in the northwest was for the 
moment paralyzed, and Labienus, secured by liis in- 
genious and brilliant victory, returned to his quarters 
without further accident. There Csesar came to him 
as he expected, and the army was once more to- 
gether. 

Meanwhile the failure at Gergovia had kindled the 
enthusiasm of the central districts into white heat. 
The ^dui, the most powerful of all the tribes, were 
now at one with their countrymen, and Bibracte be- 
came the focus of the national army. The young 
Vercingetorix was elected sole commander, and his 
plan, as before, was to starve the Romans out. Fly- 
ing bodies harassed the borders of the province, so 
that no reinforcements could reach them from the 
south. Csesar, however, amidst his conquests had the 
art of making staunch friends. What the province 
could not supply he obtained from his allies across 
the Rhine, and he furnished himself with bodies of 
German cavalry, which when mounted on Roman 
horses proved invaluable. In the new form which 
the insurrection had assumed the ^dui were the first 
tc be attended to. C^sar advanced leisurely upon 



Alesia, 355 

them, through the high country at the rise of the 
Seine and the Marne, towards Alesia, or Alice St. 
Reine. Verciiigetorix watched him at tea miles' dis- 
tance. He supposed him to be making for the prov- 
ince, and his intention was that Caasar should never 
reach it. The Celts at all times have been fond of 
emphatic protestations. The young heroes swore a 
solemn oath that they would not see wife or childriiu 
or parents more till they had ridden twice through 
the Roman army. In this mood they encountered 
CaBsar in the valley of the Vingeanne, a river which 
fails into the Saone, and they met the fate which 
necessarily befell them when their ungovernable mul- 
titudes engaged the legions in the open field. They 
were defeated with enormous loss : not they riding 
through the Roman army, but themselves ridden over 
and hewn down by the German horsemen and sent 
flying for fifty miles over the hills into Alice St. 
Reine. Cassar followed close behind, driving Vercin- 
getoiix under the lines of the fortress ; and the siege 
of Alesia, one of the most remarkable exploits in ail 
military history, was at once undertaken. 

Alesia, like Gergovia, is on a hill sloping off all 
round, with steep and, in places, precipitous sides. 
It lies between two small rivers, the Ose and the 
Oserain, both of which fall into the Brenne and 
thence into the Seine. Into this peninsula, with the 
rivers on each side of him, Vercingetorix had thrown 
himself with eighty thousand men. Alesia as a po- 
sition was impregnable except to famine. The water- 
supply was secure. The position was of extraordi- 
nary strength. The rivers formed natural trenches. 
Below the town to the east they ran parallel for 
three miles through an open alluvial plain before the} 



856 CoBsar, 

reached the Brenne. In every other direction iOse 
rocky hills of equal height with the central plateau, 
originally perhaps one wide tableland, through which 
the waters had ploughed out the valleys. To attack 
Vercingetorix where he had placed himself was cut 
of the question; but to blockade him there, to cap- 
ture the leader of the insurrection and his whole 
army, and so in one blow make an end with it, on a 
Burvey of the situation seemed not impossible. The 
Gauls had thought of nothing less than of being be- 
sieged. The provisions laid in could not be consider- 
able, and so enormous a multitude could not hold out 
many days. 

At once the legions were set to work cutting 
trenches or building walls as the form of the ground 
allowed. Camps were formed at different spots, and 
twenty-three strong blockhouses at the points which 
were least defensible. The lines where th-e circuit 
was completed were eleven miles long. The part 
most exposed was the broad level meadow which 
spread out to the west towards the Brenne river. 
Vercingetorix had looked on for a time, not under- 
standing what was happening to him. When he did 
understand it, he made desperate efforts on his side to 
break the net before it closed about him. But he 
could do nothing. The Gauls could not be brought 
to face the Roman intrenchments. Their cavalry 
were cut to pieces by the German horse. The only 
hope was from help without, and before the lines 
were entirely finished horsemen were sent out with 
orders to ride for their lives into every district in 
Gaul and raise the entire nation. The crisis had 
come. If the countrymen of Vercingetorix w^Te 
worthy of their fathers, if the enthusiasm with which 



i 



Alesia. 857 

tliey had risen for freedom was not a mere emotion, 
but the expression of a real purpose, their young 
leader called on them to come now, every man of 
them, and seize Cassar in the trap into which he had 
betrayed himself. If, on the other hand, they were 
careless, if they allowed him and his eighty thousand 
men to perish without an effort to save them, the in- 
dependence which they had ceased to deserve would 
be lost forever. He had food, he bade the messen- 
gers say, for thirty days ; by thrifty management it 
might be made to last a few days longer. In thirty 
days he should look for relief. 

The horsemen sped away like the bearers of the 
fiery cross. Caesar learnt from deserters that they 
had gone out, and understood the message which they 
carried. Already he was besieging an army far out- 
numbering his own. If he persevered, he knew that 
he might count with certainty on being attacked by 
a second army immeasurably larger. But the time 
allowed for the collection of so many men might also 
serve to prepare for their reception. Vercingetorix 
said rightly that the Romans won their victories, not 
by superior courage, but by superior science. The 
same power of measuring the exact facts of the situa- 
tion which determined Ccesar to raise the siege of 
Gergovia decided him to hold on at Alesia. He 
knew exactly, to begin with, how long Vercingetorix 
could hold out. It was easy for him to collect pro- 
visions within his lines which would feed his own 
army a few days longer. Fortifications the same in 
kind as those which prevented the besieged from 
breaking out would equally serve to keep the assail- 
ants off. His plan was to make a second line of 
works — an exterior line as well as an interior line ; 



858 Ccesar. 

and as the extent to be defended would thus ba 
doubled, he made them of a peculiar construction, to 
enable one man to do the work of two. There is no 
occasion to describe the rows of ditches, dry and wet , 
the staked pitfalls, the cervi, pronged instruments 
like the branching horns of a stag ; the stimuli, 
barbed spikes treacherously concealed to impale the 
unwary and hold him fast when caught, with which 
the ground was sown in irregular rows ; the vallus 
and the lorica, and all the varied contrivances of Ro- 
man engineering genius. Military students will read 
the particulars for themselves in Csesar's own lan- 
guage. Enough that the work was done within the 
time, with the legions in perfect good humor, and 
giving jesting names to the new instruments of tor- 
ture as Csesar invented them. Vercingetorix now 
and then burst out on the working parties, but pro- 
duced no effect. They knew what they were to ex- 
pect when the thirty days were out ; but they knew 
their commander, and had absolute confidence in his 
judgment. 

Meanwhile, on all sides, the Gauls were respond- 
ing to the call. From every quarter, even from far- 
off parts of Belgium, horse and foot were streaming 
along the roads. Commius of Arras, Csesar's old 
friend, who had gone with him to Britain, was 
caught with the same frenzy, and was hastening 
among the rest to help to end him. At last two 
hundred and fifty thousand of the best fighting men 
that Gaul could produce had collected at the ap- 
pointed rendezvous, and advanced with the easy con- 
viction that the mere impulse of so mighty a force 
would sweep Csesar off the earth. They were late 
in arriving. The thirty days had passed, and there 



Alesia. 359 

were no signs of the coming deliverers. Eager eyes 
were straining from the heights of the plateau ; but 
nothing was seen save the tents of the legions or the 
busy units of men at work on the walls and trenches. 
Anxious debates were held among the beleaguered 
chiefs. The faint-hearted wished to surrender before 
they were starved. Others were in favor of a des- 
perate effort to cut their way through or die. One 
speech Cassar preserves for its remarkable and fright- 
ful ferocity. A prince of Auvergne said' that the 
Romans conquered to enslave and beat down the 
laws and liberties of free nations under the lictors' 
axes, and he proposed that sooner than yield they 
should kill and eat those who were useless for fight- 
ing. 

Vercingetorix was of noble nature. To prevent 
the adoption of so horrible an expedient, he ordered 
the peaceful inhabitants, with their wives and chil- 
dren, to leave the town. Ctesar forbade them to pass 
his lines. Cruel — but war is cruel ; and where a 
garrison is to be reduced by famine the laws of it are 
inexorable. 

But the day of expected deliverance dawned at 
last. Five miles beyond the Brenne the dust-clouds 
of the approaching host were seen, and then the glit- 
ter of their lances and their waving pennons. The}'- 
swam the river. They filled the plain below the 
town. From the heights of Alesia the whole scene 
lay spread under the feet of the besieged. Vercin- 
getorix came down on the slope to the edge of the 
first trench, prepared to cross when the turn of bat- 
tle should give him a chance to strike. Caisar sent 
out his German horse, and stood himself watcliing 
from the spur of an adjoining hill. The Gauls had 



860 Cce8ar. 

brought innumerable archers with them. The horse 
flinched slightly under the showers of arrows, and 
shouts of triumph rose from the lin6s of the town ; 
but the Germans rallied again, sent the cavalry of tlie 
Gauls flying, and hewed down the unprotected arch- 
ers. Vercingetorix fell back sadly to his camp on 
the hill, and then for a day there was a pause. The 
relieving army had little food with them, and if they 
acted at all must act quickly. They spread over the 
country collecting faggots to fill the trenches, and 
making ladders to storm the walls. At midnight 
they began their assault on the lines in the plain ; 
and Vercingetorix, hearing by the cries that the work 
had begun, gave his own signal for a general sally. 
The Roman arrangements had been completed long 
before. Every man knew his post. The slings, the 
crossbows, the scorpions were all at hand and in or- 
der. Mark Antony and Caius Trebonius had each 
a flying division under them to carry help where the 
pressure was most severe. The Gauls were caught 
on the cervi, impaled on the stimuli, and fell in heaps 
under the bolts and balls which were poured from the 
walls. They could make no impression, and fell 
back at daybreak beaten and dispirited. Vercinget- 
orix had been unable even to pass the moats and 
trenches, and did not come into action till his friends 
had abandoned the attack. 

The Gauls had not yet taken advantage of their 
enormous numbers. Defeated on the level ground, 
they next tried the heights. The Romans were dis- 
tributed in a ring now fourteen miles in extent. On 
the north side, beyond the Ose, the works were in- 
complete, owing to the nature of the ground, and 
their lines lay on the slope of the hills descending to- 



Battle before Alesia, 361 

wards the river. Sixty thousand picked men left the 
Gauls' camp before dawn ; they stole round by a dis- 
tant route, and were allowed to rest concealed in a 
valley till the middle of the day. At noon they came 
over the ridge at the Romans' back ; and they had 
the best of the position, being able to attack from 
above. Their appearance was the signal for a gen- 
eral assault on all sides, and for a determined sally 
by Vercingetorix from within. Thus before, behind, 
and everywhere, the legions were assailed at the same 
moment ; and Caesar observes that the cries of battle 
in the rear are always more trying to men than the 
fiercest onset upon them in front ; because what they 
cannot see they imagine more formidable than it is, 
and they depend for their own safety on the courage 
of others. 

Ceesar had taken his stand where he could com- 
mand the whole action. There was no smoke in 
those engagements, and the scene was transparently 
visible. Both sides felt that the deciding trial had 
come. In the plain the Gauls made no more impres- 
sion than on the preceding day. At the weak point 
on the north the Romans were forced back down the 
slope, and could not hold their positions. Caesar saw 
it, and sent Labienus with six cohorts to their help. 
Vercingetorix had seen it also, and attacked the in- 
terior lines at the same spot. Decimus Brutus was 
then dispatched also, and then Caius Fabius. Fi- 
nally, when the fighting grew desperate, he left his 
own station; he called up the reserves which had not 
yet been engaged, and he rode across tlie field, con- 
spicuous in his scarlet dress and with his bare head, 
cheering on the men as he passed each point where 
they were engaged, and hastening to the scene inhere 



862 Ccesar. 

the chief clanger lay. He sent round a few sqii drons 
of horse to the back of the hiils which the Gauls had 
crossed in the morning. He himself joined Labienus. 
Wherever he went he carried enthusiasm along with 
him. The legionaries flung away their darts and 
rushed upon the enemy sword in hand. The cavalry 
appeared above on the heights. The Gauls wavered, 
broke, and scattered. The German horse were among 
them, hewing down the brave but now helpless patriots 
who had come with such high hopes and had fought so 
gallantly. Out of the sixty thousand that had sallied 
forth in the morning, all but a draggled remnant lay 
dead on the hill-sides. Seventy -four standards were 
brought in to Caesar. The besieged retired into 
Alice again in despair. The vast hosts that were to 
have set them free melted away. In the morning 
they were streaming over the countrj^, making back 
for their homes, with Csesar's cavalry behind them, 
cutting them down and capturing them in thousands. 

The work was done. The most daring feat in the 
military annals of mankind had been successfull}^ ac- 
complished. A Roman army which could not at the 
utmost have amounted to fifty thousand men had held 
blockaded an army of eighty thousand — not weak 
Asiatics, but European soldiers, as strong and as 
brave individually as the Italians were ; and they 
had defeated, beaten, and annihilated another army 
which had come expecting to overwhelm them, five 
times as large as their own. 

Seeing that all was over, Vercingetorix called the 
chiefs about him. He had gone into the war, he 
eaid, for no object of his own, but for the liberty of 
his country. Fortune had gone against him ; and he 
advised them to make their peace, either by killing 



Defeat of the QauU. 863 

him and sending his head to the conqueror or b}^ de- 
livering him up alive. A humble message of sub- 
mission ^vas dispatched to Csesar. He demanded an 
unconditional surrender, and the Gauls, starving and 
hopeless, obeyed. The Roman general sat amidst 
the works in front of the camp while the chiefs one 
b}^ one were produced before him. The brave Ver- 
cingetorix, as noble in his calamnity as Caesar himself 
in his success, was reserved to be shown in triumph 
to the populace of Rouie. The whole of his army 
were prisoners of war. The JSdui and Arverni 
among them were set aside, and were dismissed after 
a short detention for political reasons. The remain- 
der were sold to the contractors, and the proceeds 
were distributed as prize-money among the legions. 
Caesar passed the winter at Bibracte, receiving the 
submission of the chiefs of the iEdui and of the 
Auvergne. Wounds received in war soon heal if gen- 
tle measures follow a victory. If tried by the man- 
ners of his age, Ciesar was the most merciful of con- 
querors. His high aim was, not to enslave the Gauls, 
but to incorporate them in the Empire; to extend the 
privileges of Roman citizens among them and among 
all the nndegenerate races of the European provinces. 
He punished no one. He was gracious and consid- 
erate to all, and he so impressed the central tribes by 
his judgment and his moderation that they served 
him faithfully in all his coming troubles, and never 
more, even in the severest temptation, made an effort 
to recover their independence. 

Much, however, remained to be done. The insur- 
rection had shaken the whole of Gaul. The 
distant tribes had all joined in it, either 
actively or by sympathy ; and the patriots who had 



864 CcBBur. 

seized the control despairing of pardon, tliouglit their 
only hope was in keeping rebellion alive. During 
winter they believed themselves secure. The Car- 
nutes of the Eure and Loire, under a new chief 
named Gutruatus,^ and the' Bituriges, untaught by 
CK savage at the fate of Bourges, were still deliant. 
When the winter was at its deepest, Caesar suddenly 
appeared across the Loire. He caught the country 
people unprepared, and captured them in their farms. 
The swiftness of his marches baffled alike flight and 
resistance ; he crushed the whole district down, and 
he was again at his quarters in forty days. As a re- 
ward to the men who had followed him so cheerfully 
in the cold January campaign, he gave each private 
legionary 200 sesterces and each centurion 2,000. 
Eighteen days' rest was all that he allowed himself, 
and with fresh troops, and in storm and frost, he 
started for the Carnutes. The rebels were to have 
no rest till they submitted. The Bellovaci were now 
out also. The Remi alone of all the Gauls had con- 
tinued faithful in the rising of Vercingetorix. The 
Bellovaci, led by Commius of Arras, were preparing 
to burn the territory of the Remi as a punishment. 
Commius was not as guilty, perhaps, as he seemed. 
Labienus had suspected him of intending mischief 
when he was on the Seine in the past summer, and 
had tried to entrap and kill him. Anyway Csesar's 
first object was to show the Gauls that no friends of 
Rome would be allowed to suffer. He invaded Nor- 
mandy ; he swept the country. He drove the Bello- 
vaci and the Carnutes to collect in another great 
army to defend themselves ; he set upon them with 
his usual skill, and destroyed them. Commius es» 

1 Gudrund ? The word has a German sound. 



Final Suppression of the Revolt, 865 

caped over the Rliine to Germany. Gutruatus was 
taken. Caesar would have pardoned him ; but the 
legions were growing savagn at these repeated and 
useless commotions, and insisted on his execution. 
The poor wretch was flogged till he was insensible, 
and his head was cut off by the lictor's axe. 

All Gaul was now submisssive, its spirit broken, 
and, as tl^e event proved, broken finally, except in 
the southwest. Eight years out of the ten of Caesar's 
government had expired. In one corner of the coun- 
try only the dream still survived that if the patriots 
could hold out till Caesar was gone, Celtic liberty 
might 3^et have a chance of recovering itself. A sin- 
gle tribe on the Dordogne, relying on the strength of 
a fortress in a situation resembling that of Gergovia, 
persisted in resistance to the Roman authority. The 
spirit of national independence is like a fire : so long 
as a spark remains a conflagration can again be 
kindled, and Caesar felt that he must trample out the 
last ember that was alive. Uxellodunum — so the 
place was named — stood on an inaccessible rock, 
and was amply provisioned. It could be taken only 
as Edinburgh Castle was once taken, by cutting off 
its water ; and the ingenious tunnel may still be seen 
by which the Roman engineers tapped the spring 
that supplied the garrison. They, too, had then to 
yield, and the war in Gaul was over. 

The following winter Caesar spent at Arras. Ho 
wished to hand over his conquests to his successor 
not only subdued but reconciled to subjection. He 
invited the chiefs of all the tribes to come to him. 
He spoke to them of the future which lay open to 
them as members of a splendid Imperial State. He 
gave them magnificent presents. He laid no imposi 



366 CoBmr, 

tions either on the leaders or their people, and they 
went to their homes personally devoted to their con- 
qneror, contented with their condition, and resolved, 
to maintain the peace which was now established — a 
unique experience in political history. The Norman 
Conquest of England alone in the least resembles it. 
In the spring of 50 Caesar went to Italy. Strange 
things had happened meanwhile in Rome. So long 
as there was a hope that Ceesar would be destroyed 
by the insurrection the ill-minded Senate had waited 
to lefc the Gauls do the work for him. The chance 
was gone. He had risen above his perils more brill- 
iant than ever, and nothing now was left to them 
but to defy and trample on him. Servius Galba, who 
was favorable to Caesar, had stood for the consulship 
for 49, and had received a majority of votes. The 
election was set aside. Two patricians, Lentulus and 
Caius Marcellus, were declared chosen, and their 
avowed purpose was to strip the conqueror of Gaul 
of his honors and rewards.^ The people of 
his own Cisalpine Province desired to show 
that they at least had no sympathy with such enven- 
omed animosities. In the colonies in Lombardy and 
Venetia Caesar was received with the most passionate 
demonstrations of affection. The towns were dressed 
out with flags and flowers. The inhabitants crowded 
into the streets with their wives and children to look 
at him as he passed. The altars smoked with offer- 
ings ; the temples were thronged with worshippers 
praying the immortal gods to bless the greatest of 

1 " Tnsolenter adversarii sui gloriabantur L. Lentulum et C. MarcelluiTi 
consules creates, qui omnem honorem et dignitatem Csesaris exspoliarent. 
Ereptum Servio Galbte consulatiim cum is niulto plus gratia suffragii^que 
valuisset, quod sibi conjunctus et familiaritate et necessitudine legatioais 
esset." — Auli Hirtii De Bell. GalL viii. 50. 



State of Feeling in Italy. 367 

the Romans. He had yet one more year to govern. 
After a brief stay he rejoined his army. He spent the 
summer in organizing the administration of the dif- 
ferent districts and assigning his officers their various 
commands. That he did not at this time contemplate 
any violent interference with the Constitution may 
be proved by the distribution of his legions, which 
remained stationed far away in Belgium and on the 
Loire. 



CHAPTER XX. 

CrASSUS had been destroj^ed by the Parthians. 
The nomination of his successor lay with 
the Senate, and the Senate gave a notable 
evidence of their incapacity for selecting competent 
governors for the provinces by appointing in his place 
Caesar's old colleague, Bibulus. In their whole num- 
ber there was no such fool as Bibulus. When he ar- 
rived in Syria he shut himself into a fortified town, 
leaving the Parthians to plunder and burn at their 
pleasure. Cicero mocked at him. The Senate 
thanked him for his distinguished services. The few 
serious men in Rome thought that Caesar or Pompey 
should be sent out ; ^ or, if they could not be spared, 
at least one of the consuls of the year — Sulpicius 
Rufus or Marcus Marcellus. But the consuls were 
busy with home politics and did not wish to go, 
nor did they wish that others should go and gather 
laurels instead of them. Therefore nothing was done 
at all,2 and Syria was left to fate and Bibulus. The 
consuls and the aristocracy had, in fact, more serious 
matters to attend to. Csesar's time was runnmg out, 
and when it was over he had been promised the con- 
sulship. That consulship the faction of the Con- 
servatives had sworn that he should never hold. 
Cato was threatening him with impeachment, blus- 
tering that he should be tried under a guard, as Milo 

1 " Calius ad Ciceronem," Ad Fam. viii. 10. ^ Ibid. 



Fears of the ArUtocracy. 3()i) 

had beeii.^ Marcellus was saying openly that he 
would call him home in disgrace before his terra was 
over. Como, one of the most thriving towns in the 
north of Italy, had been enfranchised by CcGsar. An 
eminent citizen from Como happening to be at Rome, 
Marcellus publicly flogged him, and bade him go back 
and tell his fellow-townsmen the value of Csesar'a 
gift to them. Cicero saw the folly of such actions ;- 
but the aristocracy were mad — mad with pride and 
conscious guilt and fear. The ten years of Caesar's 
government would expire at tlie end of 49. The en- 
gagement had been entered into that he was to see 
his term out v/ith his army and to return to Rome 
for 48 — as consul. They remembered his first con- 
Bulship and w'hat he had done with it, and the laws 
which he had passed — laws which they could not re- 
peal ; yet how had they observed them ? If he had 
been too strong for them all when he was but one of 
themselves, scarcely known beyond the Forum and 
Senate-house, what .vould he do now, when he was 
recognized as the greatest soldier which Rome had 
produced, the army, the people, Ital}^, the provinces 
all adoring his name ? Consul again he could not, 
must not be. Yet how could it be prevented ? It 
was useless now to bribe tlie Comitia, to work with 
clubs and wire-pullers. The enfranchised citizens 
would come to vote for Caesar from ever}^ country 
town. The legionaries to a man would vote for Inm ; 
and even in the venal city he was the idol of the 
liour. No fault could be found with his administra- 
tion. His wars had paid their own expenses. He 

1 Suetonius, De Vita JuUi Ccesaris. 

2 •' Marcellus foede de Comensi. Etsi ille miigistratum non gesserat, 
erat tamen Transpadanus. Ita mihi videtur non minus stomachi nostro *c 
Caesaii fecisse." — To Atticus, v. 11. 

24 



370 Ccesar. 

had doubled the pay of his troops, but his military 
chest was still full, and his own wealth seemed 
boundless. He was adorning the Forum with new 
and costly buildings. Senators, knights, young men 
of rank who had been extravagant, had been relieved 
by his generosity and were his pensioners. Gaul 
might liave been impatient at its loss of liberty, but 
no word of complaint was h«ard against Caesar for 
oppressive government. The more genius he had 
shown the more formidable he was. Let him be con- 
sul, and he would be the master of them all. 

Cgesar has been credited with far-reaching designs. 
It has been assumed that in early life he had designed 
the overthrow of the constitution ; that he pursued 
bis purpose steadily through every stage in his career, 
and that he sought the command of Gaul only to ob- 
tain an army devoted to him which would execute 
his will. It has not seemed incredible that a man of 
middle age undertook the conquest of a country of 
which nothing was known save that it was inhabited 
by warlike races, who more than once had threatened 
to overrun Italy and destroy Rome ; that he went 
through ten years of desperate fighting exposed to a 
thousand dangers from the sword, from exposure and 
hardship ; that for ten years he had banished himself 
from Rome, uncertain whether he would ever see it 
again ; and that he had ventured upon all this with 
no other object than that of eventually controlling 
domestic politics. A lunatic might have entertained 
6uch a scheme, but not a Csesar. The Senate knew 
him. They knew what he had done. They knew 
what he would now do, and for this reason they feared 
and hated him. C^sar was a reformer. He had long 
Been that the Roman Constitution was too narrow for 



Ambition of Coesar. 371 

the functions which had fallen to it, and that it was 
degenerating into an instrument of tyranny and in- 
justice. The courts of law were corrupt ; the elec- 
tions were corrupt. The administration of the prov- 
inces was a scandal and a curse. The soil of Italy 
had become a monopoly of capitalists, and the inhab- 
itants of it a population of slaves. He had exerted 
himself to stay the mischief at its fountain, to pun- 
ish bribery, to punish the rapacity of proconsuls and 
pro-praetors, to purify the courts, to maintain respect 
for the law. He had endeavored to extend the fran- 
chise, to raise the position of the liberated slaves, tc» 
replace upon the liind a free race of Roman citizens. 
The old Roman sentiment, the consciousness of the 
greatness of the country and of its mighty destinies, 
"was chiefly now to be found in the armies. In the 
families of veteran legionaries, spread in farms over 
Italy and the provinces, the national spirit might re- 
vive ; and, with a due share of poUtical power con- 
ceded to them, an enlarged and purified constituency- 
might control the votes of the venal populace of the 
city. These were Csesar's designs, so far as could 
have been gathered from his earlier actions ; but the 
manipulation of elections, the miserable contests with 
disaffected colleagues and a hostile Senate, were dreary 
occupations for such a man as he was. He was con- 
scious of powers which in so poor a sphere could find 
no expression. He had ambition doubtless — plenty 
of it — ambition not to pass away without leaving his 
mark on the history of his country. As a statesman 
ue had done the most which could be done when he 
was consul the first time, and he had afterwards sought 
a free field for his adventurous genius in a new coun- 
try, and in rounding off into security the frontiers of 



372 Ccesar. 

the Empire on the side where danger \Yas most threat- 
ening. The proudest self-confidence could not have 
allowed him at his time of life to calculate on return- 
ing to Rome to. take up again the work of reforma- 
tion. 

But Csesar had conquered. He had made a name 
for himself as a soldier before which the Scipios and 
the Luculluses, the Syllas and Pompeys paled their 
glary. He was coming back to lay at his country's 
feet a province larger than Spain — not subdued only, 
but reconciled to subjugation ; a nation of warriors, 
as much devoted to him as his own legions. The 
aristocracy had w^atched his progress with tlie bitter- 
est malignity. When he v/?.s struggling with the last 
spasms of Gallic liberty, they had talked in delighted 
whispers of his reported ruin.^ But his genius had 
risen above his difficulties and shone out more glori- 
ous than before. When the war was over the Senate 
had been forced to vote tv/enty days of thanksgiving. 
Twenty days were not enough for Roman enthusiasm. 
The people made them into sixty. 

If Csesar came to Rome as consul, the Senate knew 
too well what it might expect. What he had been 
before he would be again, but more severe, as hia 
power was greater. Their own guilty hearts perhaps 
made them fear another Marian proscription. Unless 
his command could be brought to an end in some far 
different form, their days of power were numbered, 
and the days of inquiry and punishment would begin. 

Cicero had for some time seen w^hat was coming. 

1 " Quod ad Csesarem crebri et non belli de eo rumores. Sed susurrato- 

.esviumtaxat veniuut Neque adhuc certi quidquara est, nequa 

flsec incerta taraen vulgo jactantur. Sed inter paucos, quos tu nosti, palam 
secreto narrantur. At Domitius cum manus ad os apposuit ! " — Caelius 
to Cicero, Ad Fam. viii. 1. 



Senatorial Intrigues, 373 

He had preferred chanicteristically to be out of the 
way at the iiiomeiit when he expected that the storm 
would break, and had accepted the government of 
Cilicia and Cyprus. He was thus absent while the 
active plot was in preparation. One great step had 
been gained — the Senate had secured Pompey. Cse- 
sar's greatness was too much for him. He coulU 
never again hope to be the first on the popular side, 
and he preferred being the saviour of the constitu- 
tion to playing second to a person whom he had pat- 
ronized. Pompey ought long since to have been in 
Spain with his troops ; but he had sta^^ed at Rome to 
keep order, and he had lingered on with the same 
pretext. The first step was to weaken Cassar and to 
provide Pompey with a force in Italy. The Senate 
discovered suddenly that Asia Minor was in danger 
from the Parthians. They voted that Caesar and 
Pompey must each spare a legion for the East. Pom- 
pey gave as his part the legion which he 
had lent to Csesar for the last campaign. 
Caesar was invited to restore it and furnish another 
of his own. Caesar was then in Belgium. He saw 
the object of the demand perfectly clearly; but he 
sent the two legions without a word, contenting him- 
self with making handsome presents to the officers 
and men on their leaving him. When they reached 
Italy the Senate found that they were wanted for 
home service, and they were placed under Pompey's 
command in Campania. The consuls chosen for the 
year 49 were Lucius Cornelius Lentulus and Caius 
Marcellus, both of them Csesar's open enemies. Cae- 
sar himself had been promised the consulship (there 
could be no doubt of his election, if his name was 
^iccepted in his absence) for the year 48. He was to 



374 Coesar, 

remain with his troops till his term had run out, and 
to be allowed to stand while still in command. This 
was the distinct engagement which the assembly had 
ratified. After the consular election had been secured 
in the autumn of 50 to the Conservative candidates, 
it was proposed that by a displacement of dates Csb- 
sar's government should expire, not at the close of the 
tenth year, but in the spring, on the 1st of March. 
Convenient constitutional excuses were found for the 
change. On the 1st of March he was to cease to be 
governor of Gaul. A successor was to be named to 
take over his army. He would then have to return 
to Rome, and would lie at the mercy of his enemies. 
Six months would intervene before the next elections, 
during which he might be impeached, incapacitated, 
or otherwise disposed of ; while Pompey and his two 
legions could effectually prevent any popular disturb- 
ance in his favor. The Senate hesitated before de- 
cisively voting the recall. An intimation was con- 
veyed to Csesar that he had been mistaken about his 
term, which would end sooner than he had supposed ; 
and the world was waiting to see how he would take 
it. Atticus thought that he would give way. His 
having parted so easily with two legions did not look 
like resistance. Marcus CseHus, a correspondent of 
Cicero, who had been elected praetor for 49, and kept 
his friend informed how things were going on, wrote 
in the autumn : — 

" All is at a standstill about the Gallic government. 
The subject has been raised, and is again postponed. 
Pompey's view is plain, that Cassar must leave his 
province after the 1st of March .... but he does 
not think that before that time the Senate can prop- 
erly pass a resolution about it. After the 1st of 



Ourio. 375 

March he will have no hesitation. When he was 
asked what he woald do if a tribune interposed, he 
said it made no difference whether Caesar himself dis- 
obeyed the Senate, or provided some one else to in- 
terfere with the Senate. Suppose, said one, Cfesar 
wishes to be consul and to keep his army. Pompey 
answered, ' What if my son wishes to lay a stick on 
my back ?'.... It appears that Caesar will accept 
one or other of two conditions ; either to remain in 
his province, and postpone his claim for the consul- 
ship ; or, if he can be named for the consulship, then 
to retire. Curio is all against him. What he can 
accomplish, I know not ; but I perceive this, that if 
Csesar means well, he will not be overthrown." ^ 

The object of the Senate was either to ruin Caesar, 
if he complied with this order, or to put him in the 
wrong by provoking him to disobedience. The scheme 
was ingenious ; but if the Senate could mine, Caesar 
could countermine. Caelius said that Curio was vio- 
lent against him : and so Curio had been. Curio was 
a young man of high birth, dissolute, extravagant, 
and clever. His father, who had been consul five- 
and-twenty years before, was a strong aristocrat and 
a close friend of Cicero's. The son had taken the 
same line ; but, among other loose companions, he 
had made the acquaintance, to his father's regret, of 
Mark Antony, and though they had hitherto been of 
opposite politics, the intimacy had continued. The 
Senate's influence had made Curio tribune for the 
year 49. Antony had been chosen tribune also. To 
the astonishment of everybody but Cicero, it appeared 
that these two, who were expected to neutralize each 
other, were about to work together, and to veto every 

1 Caelius to Cicero, Ad. Fam. viii. 8. 



870 Ccemr. 

resolution which seemed an unfair return for Caesar'a 
services. Scandal said that young Curio was in 
money difficulties, and that Caesar had paid his debts 
for him. It was perhaps a lie invented by political 
malignity ; but if Curio was purchasable, C^sar would 
not have hesitated to buy him. His habit was to 
take facts as they were, aud when satisfied that his 
object was just, to go the readiest way to it. 

The desertion of their own tribune was a serious 
blow to the Senate. Csslius, who was to be prsetor, 
was inclining to think that Csesar would win, and 
therefore might take his side also. The constitu- 
tional opposition would then be extremely strong; 
and even Pompey, fiercely as he had spoken, doubted 
what to do. The question was raised in the Senate, 
whether the tribunes' vetoes were to be regarded. 
Marcellus, who had flogged the citizen of Corao, 
voted for defying them, but the rest were timid. 
Pompey did not know his own mind.^ Ca^lius's a.c- 
count of his own feelings in the matter represented 
probably those of many besides himself. 

" In civil quarrels," he wrote to Cicero, " we ought 
to go with the most honest party, as long as the con- 
test lies within constitutional limits. When it is an 
affair of camps and battles, we must go with the 
strongest. Pompey will have the Senate and the 
men of consideration with him. All the discontented 
will go with Csesar. I must calculate the forces on 
both sides, before I decide on my own part." ^ 

When the question next came on in the Senate, 
Curio, being of course instructed in Csesar's wishes, 
professed to share the anxiety lest there should be a 

1 Cselius to Cicero, Ad, Fam. viii. 13. 

2 lb. viii. 14. 



Divisions in the Senate, 377 

military Dictatorship ; but he said that the danger 
was as great from Pompey as from Csesar. He did 
not object to the recall of Csesar, but Pompey, he 
thought, should resign his province also, and the con- 
Btitution would then be out of peril. Pompey pro- 
fessed to be willing, if the Senate desired it; but he 
insisted that Csesar must take the first step. Curio'3 
proposal w^as so fair, that it gained favor both in 
Forum and Senate. The populace, who hated Pom- 
pey, threw flowers upon the tribune as he passed. 
Marcellus, the consul, a few days later, put the ques- 
tion in the Senate : Was Caesar to be recalled ? A 
niajo"^ity answered Yes. Was Pompey to be de- 
prived of his province ? The same majority said No. 
Curio then proposed that both Pompey and Caesar 
should dismiss their armies. Out of three hundred 
and ninety-two senators present, three hundred and 
seventy agreed. Marcellus told them bitterly that they 
had voted themselves Cgesar's slaves. But they were 
not all insane with envy and hatred, and in the midst 
of their terrors they retained some prudence, perhaps 
some conscience and sense of justice. By this time, 
however, the messengers who had been sent to com- 
municate the Senate's views to Caesar had returned. 
They brought no positive answer from himself ; but 
they reported that Caesar's troops were worn out and 
discontented, and certainly would refuse to support 
him in any violent action. How false their ac( ount 
of the army was the Senate had soon reason to know ; 
but it was true that one, and he the most trusted 
officar that Caesar had, Labienus, who had fought 
through so many battles with him in the Forum as 
well as in. the field, whose high talents and character 
his Commentaries could never praise sufficiently — 



878 Ccesar. 

it was true that Labienus had listened to the offers 
made him. Labienus had made a vast fortune in 
the war. He perhaps tlionght, as other distinguished 
officers have done, that he was the person that had 
won the victories ; that without him Caesar, who was 
being so much praised and glorified, would have bten 
nothing ; and that he at least was entitled to an 
equal share of the honors and rewards that might be 
coming ; while if Caesar was to be disgraced, he might 
have the whole recompense for himself. Csesar heard 
of these overtures ; but he had refused to believe that 
Labienus could be untrue to him. He showed his 
confidence, and he showed at the same time the in- 
tegrity of his own intentions, by appointing the officer 
who was suspected of betraying him Lieutenant-gen- 
eral of the Cisalpine Province. None the less it was 
true that Labienus had been won over. Labienus 
had undertaken for his comrades; and the belief that 
Caesar could not depend on his troops renewed Pom- 
pey's courage and gave heart to the faction which 
wished to precipitate extremities. The aspect of 
things was now altered. What before seemed rash 
and dangerous might be safely ventured. Caesar had 
himself followed the messengers to Ravenna. To 
raise the passions of men to the desired heat, a re- 
port was spread that he had brought his troops across 
and was marching on Rome. Curio hastened off to 
him, to bring back under his own hand a distinct 
declaration of his views. 

It was at this crisis, in the middle of the winter 
50-49, that Cicero returned to Rome. He had held 
his government but for two years, and instead of es- 
caping the catastrophe, he found himself plunged 
into the heart of it. He had managed his province 



Cicero's Difficulties, 379 

well. No one ever suspected Cicero of being corrupt 
or unjust. He had gained some respectable succe&'ses 
in putting down the Cilician banditti. He had been 
named Imperator by his soldiers in the field after an 
action in which he had commanded ; he had been 
flattering himself with the prospect of a triumph, 
and had laid up money to meet the cost of it. The 
quarrel between the two great men whom he had so 
long feared and flattered, and the necessity which 
might be thrown on him of declaring publicly on one 
side or the other, agitated him terribly. In October, 
as he was on his way home, he expressed his anxi- 
eties with his usual frankness to Atticus. 

" Consider the problem for me," he said, " as it 
affects myself : you advised me to keep on terms both 
with Pompey and Csesar. You bade me adhere to 
one because he had been good to me, and to the other 
because he was strong. I have done so. I so ordered 
matters that no one could be dearer to either of them 
than I was. I reflected thus : while I stand by Pom- 
pey, I cannot hurt the Commonwealth ; if I agree 
with Csesar, 1 need not quarrel with Pompey ; so 
closely they appeared to be connected. But now 
they are at a sharp issue. Each regards me as his 
friend, unless Caesar dissembles ; while Pompey is 
right in thinking, that what he proposes I shall ap- 
prove. I heard from both at the time at which I 
heard from you. Their letters were most polite. 
What am I do ? I don't mean in extremities. If 
it comes to fighting, it will be better to be defeated 
with one than to conquer with the other. But when 
I arrive at Rome, I shall be required to say if Caesa' 
*s to be proposed for the consulship in his absence, oi 
if he is to dismiss his army. What must I answer ? 



880 Ccesar, 

Wait till I have consulted Atticus ? That will not 
do. Shall I go against Ctesar ? Where are Pom-» 
pey's resources ? I myself took Cesar's part about 
it. He spoke to me on the subject at Ravenna. I 
recommended his request to the tribunes as a reason- 
able one. Pompey talked with me also to the same 
purpose. Am I to change my mind ? I am ashamed 
to oppose him now. Will you have a fool's opinion ? 
I will apply for a triumph, and so I shall have an ex- 
cuse for not entering the city. You will laugh. But 
oh, I wish I had remained in my province. Could I 
but have guessed what was impending I Think for 
me. How shall I avoid displeasing Ceesar ? He 
writes most kindly about a ' Thanksgiving ' for my 
success." 1 

Csesar had touched the right point in congratulat- 
ing Cicero on his military exploits. His friends ia 
the Senate had been less delicate. Bibulus had been 
thanked for hiding from the Parthians. When Cic- 
ero had hinted his expectations,' the Senate had 
passed to the order of the day. 

" Cato," he wrote, " treats me scurvily. He gives 
me praise for justice, clemency, and integrity, which 
I did not want. What I did want he will not let me 
have. Csesar promises me everything. — Cato has 
given a twenty days' thanksgiving to Bibulus. Par- 
don me, if this is more than I can bear. But I am 
relieved from my worst fear. The Parthians have 
left Bibulus half alive." ^ 

The shame wore off as Cicero drew near to Rome. 
He blamed the tribunes for insisting on what he had 
himself declared to be just. " Any way," he said, 
" I stick to Pompey. When they say to me, Marcus 

1 To Atticus, vii. 1, abridged. 2 /6. yii. 2. 






Cicero's Difficulties. 881 

Tnllins, what do j'ou think ? I shall answer, I go 
with Pompey ; but privately I shall advise Pompey 
to come to terms. We have to do with a man full of 
audacity and completely prepared. Every felon, every 
citizen who is in disgrace or ought to be in disgrace, 
almost all thB young, the city mob, the tribmies, 
debtors, who are more numerous than I could have 
believed, all these are with Caesar. He wants nothing 
but a good cause, and war is always uncertain." ^ 

Pompey had been unwell at the beginning of De- 
cember, and had gone for a few da3'^s into the coun- 
try. Cicero met him on the 10th. " We were two 
hours together," he said. " Pompey was delighted 
at my arrival. He spoke of my triumph, and prom- 
ised to do his part. He advised me to keep away 
from the Senate, till it was arranged, lest I should 
offend the tribunes. He spoke of war as certain. 
Not a word did he utter pointing to a chance of 
compromise. — My comfort is that Caesar, to whom 
even his enemies had allowed a second consulship, 
and to whom fortune had given so much power, will 
not be so mad as to throw all this away." ^ Cicero 
had soon to learn that the second consulship was not 
so certain. On the 29th he had another long con- 
versation with Pompey. 

" Is there hope of peace ? " he wrote, in reporting 
what had passed. '' So far as I can gather from his 
ver}^ full expressions to me, he does not desire it. 
For he thinks thus : If Csesar be made consul, even 
after he has parted from his arm}", the constitution 
will be at an end. He thinks also that when Caesar 
hears of the preparations against him, he will drop 
the consulship for this year, to keep his province 

1 To Aiticus, vii. 3. ^ ib. vii. 4. 



882 Coesar. 

and his troops. Should he be so insane as to try ex- 
tremities, Pompey holds him in utter contempt. 1 
thought, when he was speaking, of the uncertainties 
of war ; but I was relieved to hear a man of courago 
and experience talk like a statesman of the dangers 
of an insincere settlement. Not only he does not 
seek for peace, but he seems to fear it. My own 
vexation is, that I must pa}^ Caesar my debt, and 
spend thus what I had set apart for my triumph. It 
is indecent to owe money to a political antagonist." ^ 
Events were hurrying on. Cicero entered Rome 
the first week in January, to find that the 

. . B. C. 49. 

Senate had begun work in earnest. Curio 
had returned from Ravenna with a letter from Csesar. 
He had offered three alternatives. First, that the 
agreement already made might stand, and that he 
might be nominated, in his absence, for the consul- 
ship ; or that when he left his army, Pompey should 
disband his Italian legions ; or, lastly, that he should 
hand over Transalpine Gaul to his successor with 
eight of his ten legions, himself keeping the north of 
Italy and lUyria with two, until his election. It was 
the first of January. The new consuls, Lentulus and 
Caius Marcellus, with the other magistrates, had en- 
tered on their offices, and were in their places in the 
Senate. Pompey was present, and the letter was in- 
troduced. The consuls objected to it being read, but 
they were overruled by the remonstrances of the trib- 
unes. The reading over, the consuls forbade a debate 
upon it, and moved that the condition of the Common- 
wealth should be taken into consideration. Lentulus, 

1 "Mihi autem illud molestissimum est, quod solvendi sunt nummi 
(Jaesari, et instrumentura triumphi eo conferendum. Est a/Aop^oi' dF-wroX*. 
rsvo/xei/ov xpew(/)ei\eTij,i' esse." — lb. viii. 8. 



Debate in the Senate. 385 

the more impassioned of tliem, said that if the Senate 
would be firm, he would do his duty ; if they hesi- 
tated and trisd conciliation, he should take care of 
himself, and go over to Caesar's side. Metellus Scipio, 
Pompey's father-in-law, spoke to the same purpose. 
Pompey, he said, was ready to support the constitu- 
tion, if the Senate were resolute. If they wavered, 
they would look in vain for future help from him. 
Marcus Marcellus, the consul of the preceding year, 
less wild than he had been when he flogged the Como 
citizen, advised delay, at least till Pompey was better 
prepared. Calidius, another senator, moved that 
Pompey should go to his province. Caesar's resent- 
ment at the detention of the two legions from the 
Parthian war, he thought, was natural and justifiable. 
Marcus Rufus agreed with Calidius. But moderation 
was borne down by the violence of Lentulus ; and the 
Senate, in spite of themselves,^ voted, at Scipio's dic- 
tation, that Caesar must dismiss his army before a day 
which was to be fixed, or, in default, would be de- 
clared an enemy to the State. Two tribunes, Mark 
Antony and Cassius Longinus, interposed. The 
tribunes' veto was as old as their institution. It had 
been left standing even by Sylla. But the aristocracy 
were declaring war against the people. They knew 
that the veto was coming, and they had resolved to 
disregard it. The more passionate the speakers, the 
more they were cheered by Caesar's enemies. The 
sitting ended in the evening without a final conclu- 
sion ; but at a meeting afterwards, at his house, Pom- 
pey quieted alarms by assuring the senators that 
there was nothing to fear. Caesar's army he knew to 

1 "Inviti et coacti " is Ciesar's expression. He wished, perhaps, to 
toften the Senate's action. (Z>6 Bdlo Civili, i. 2.) 



884 Coesar. 

be disaffected, He introduced the officers of the two 
legions that had been taken from Caesar, who vouched 
for their fidelity to the constitution. Some of Pom- 
pey's veterans were present, called up from their 
farms ; they were enthusiastic for their old comman- 
der. Piso, Ccesar's father-in-law, and Roscius, a pra;- 
tor, begged for a week's dela}^, that they might go 
to Csesar, and explain the Senate's pleasure. Others 
proposed to send a deputation to soften the harsh- 
ness of his removal. But Lentulus, backed by Cato, 
would listen to nothing. Cato detested Csesar as 
the representative of everything which he most ab- 
horred. Lentulus, bankrupt and loaded with debts, 
was looking for provinces to ruin, and allied sover- 
eigns to lay presents at his feet. He boasted that he 
would be a second Sylla.^ When the Senate met 
again in their places, the tribunes' veto was disal- 
lowed. They ordered a general levy through Italy. 
The consuls gave Pompey the command-in-chief, with 
the keys of the treasury. The Senate redistributed 
the provinces ; giving Syria to Scipio, and in Caesar's 
place appointing Domitius Ahenobarbus, the most in- 
veterate and envenomed of his enemies. Their au- 
thority over the provinces had been taken from them 
by law, but law was set aside. Finally, they voted 
the State in danger, suspended the constitution, and 
gave the consuls absolute power. 

The final votes were taken on the 7th of January. 
A single week had sufficed for a discussion of the 
resolutions on which the fate of Rome depended. 
The Senate pretended, to be defending the constitu- 
tion. Th.ey had themselves destroyed the constitu- 

1 *' Seque alteram fore Sullam inter suos gloriatur. " — De Bella CiviUf 
i.4. 



Alternative Schemes. 385 

fcion, and established on the ruins of it a senatorial ol- 
igarchy. The tribunes fled at once to Caesar. Pom- 
pey left the city for Campania, to join his two legions 
and superintend the levies. 

The unanimity which had appeared in the Senate s 
final determination was on the surface only. Cicero, 
though present in Home, had taken no part, and 
looked on in despair. The "good" were shocked at 
Pompey's precipitation. The}^ saw that a civil war 
could end only in a despotism.^ " I have not met one 
man," Cicero said, ''who does not think it would bo 
better to make concessions to Ceesar than to fight 
him. — Why fight now? Things are no worse than 
when we' gave him his additional five years, or agreed 
to let him be chosen consul in his absence. You 
wish for my opinion. I think we ought to use every 
means to escape war. But I must say what Pom- 
pe}^ says. I cannot differ from Pompey." ^ 

A day later, before the final vote had been taken, 
he thouofht still tliat the Senate was wilUncr to let 
Ca?sar keep his province, if he would dissolve hia 
army. The moneyed interests, the peasant land- 
holders, were all on Caesar's side ; they cared not 
even if monarchy came so that they might have 
peace. " We could have resisted Caesar easily wlien 
he was weak," he wrote. " Now he has eleven le- 
gions and as many cavalry as he chooses with him, 
the Cisalpine provincials, the Roman populace, the 
tribunes, and the hosts of dissolute young men. Yet 
we are to fight with him, or take account of him un- 
constitutionally. Fight, you say, rather than be a 
slave. Fight for what? To be proscribed, if you 
are beaten ; to be a slave still, if you win. What 

1 " Turn certe tvrannus existet." — To Atticus, vii. 5. 2 Jb, yH, 5. 
" 25 



386 Coemr, 

will you do then ? you ask. As the sheep followa 
the flock and the ox the herd, so will I follow the 
"good," or those who are called good, but I see 
plainly what will come out of this sick state of ours. 
No one knows what the fate of war may be. But if 
the " good " are beaten, this much is certain, that Cae- 
sar will be as bloody as Cinna, and as greedy of other 
men's properties as Sylla." ^ 

Once more, and still in the midst of uncertainty : 
" The position is this : We must either let Caesar 
stand for the consulship, he keeping his army with 
the Senate's consent, or supported by the tribunes ; 
or we must persuade him to resign his province and 
his army, and so to be consul; or if he refuses, the 
elections can be held witliout him, he keeping his 
province ; or if he forbids the election through the 
tribunes, we can hang on and come to an Interrex ; 
or, lastly, if he brings his army on us, we can fight. 
Should this be his choice, he will either begin at 
once, before we are ready, or he will wait till his 
election, when his friends will put in his name and it 
will not be received. His plea may then be the ill- 
treatment of himself, or it may be complicated fur- 
ther should a tribune interpose and be deprived of 

office, and so take refuge with him You will 

say, persuade Csesar, then, to give up his army, and 
be consul. Surely, if he will agree, no objection can 
be raised; and if he is not allowed to stand while he 
keeps his army, I wonder that he does not let it go. 
But a certain person (Pompey) thinks that nothing 
is so much to be feared as that Caesar should be con- 
sul. Better thus, you will say, than with an army. 
No doubt. But a certain person holds that his con* 
1 To AtticuSf vii. 7, abridged. 



Wavering of Public Opinion. 387 

sulship would be an irremediable misfortune. We 
must yield if Caesar will have it so. He will be con- 
sul again, the same man that he was before ; then, 
weak as he was, he proved stronger than the wliole 
of us. What, think you, will he be now ? Pompey, 
for one thing, will surely be sent to Spain. Misera- 
ble every way ; and the worst is, that Csesar cannot 
be refused, and by consenting will be taken into 
supreme favor by all the "good." They say, how- 
ever, that he cannot be brought to this. Well, then, 
which is the worst of the remaining alternatives? 
Submit to what Pompey calls an impudent demand ? 
Csesar has held his province for ten years. The 
Senate did not give it him. He took it himself by 
faction and violence. Suppose he had it lawfully, 
the time is up. His successor is named. He diso- 
beys. He says that he ought to be considered. Let 
iiim consider us. Will he keep his army beyond 
the time for which the people gave it to him, in de- 
spite of the Senate ? We must fight him then, and, 
as Pompey says, we shall conquer or die free men. 
If fight we must, time will show when or how. But 
if you have any advice to give, let me know it, for I 
am tormented day and night." ^ 

These letters give a vivid picture of the uncertain- 
ties which distracted public opinion during the fatal 
first week of January. Caesar, it seems, might pos- 
sibly have been consul had he been willing to retire 
at once into the condition of a private citizen, even 
though Pompey was still undisarmed. Whether in 
that position he would have lived to see the election- 
day is another question. Cicero himself, it will be 
8een, had been reflecting already that there were 

1 To AtticuSf vii. 9, abridged. 



Coemr. 

means less perilous than civil war by whicli danger- 
ous persons might be got rid of. And there were 
weak points in his arguments which his impatience 
passed over. Csesar held a positive engagement 
about his consulship, which the people had ratified. 
Of the ten years which the people had allowed hiui, 
one was unexpired, and the Senate had no power to 
vote his recall without the tribunes' and the people's 
consent. He might well hesitate to put himself in 
the power of a faction so little scrupulous. It is evi- 
dent, however, that Pompey and the two consuls 
were afraid that if such overtures were made to him 
by a deputation from the Senate, he might perhaps 
agree to them ; and by their rapid and violent vote 
they put an end to the possibility of an arrangement. 
Csesar, for no other crime than that as a brilliant 
democratic general he was supposed dangerous to the 
oligarchy, had been recalled from his command in 
the face of the prohibition of tlie tribunes, and was 
declared an enemy of his country unless he instantly 
submitted. After the experience of Marius and 
Sylia, the Senate could have paid no higher compli- 
ment to Cassar's character than in believing that he 
would hesitate over his answer. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

C^SAR, "when the report of the Senate's action 
reached him, addressed his soldiers. He 
had but one legion with hira, the 13th. But 
one legion would represent the rest. He told them 
what the Senate had done, and why they had done it. 
" For nine years he and his army had served their 
country loyally and with some success. They had 
driven the Germans over the Rhine ; they had made 
Gaul a Roman province ; and the Senate for answer 
had broken the constitution, and had set aside the 
tribunes because they spoke in his defence. They 
had voted the State in danger, and had called Italy 
to arms when no single act had been done by himself 
to justify them." The soldiers whom Pompey sup- 
posed disaffected declared with enthusiasm that they 
would support their commander and the tribunes. 
They offered to serve without pay. Officers and men 
volunteered contributions for the expenses of the war. 
In all the army one officer alone proved false. La- 
bienus kept his word to Pompey, and stole away to 
Capua. He left his effects beliind, and Caesar sent 
them after him untouched. 

Finding that all the rest could be depended on, he 
sent back over the Alps for two more legions to fol- 
low him. He crossed the little river Rubicon, which 
bounded his province, and advanced to Rimini, where 
he met the tribunes, Antony, Cassius Longinus, and 
Curio, who were coming to him from Rome.^ At 

■ The vision on the Rubicon, with the celebrated saying that " the die 



890 Ccesar, 

Rimini the troops were again assembled. Curio told 
them what had passed. Cassar added a few more 
words. The legionaries, officers and privates, were 
perfectly satisfied ; and Csesar, who, a resolution once 
taken, struck as swiftly as his own eagles, was pre- 
paring to go forward. He had but 5,000 men with 
him, but he understood the state of Italy, and knew 
that he had nothing to fear. At this moment Lucius 
Csesar, a distant kinsman, and the praetor Roscius 
arrived, as they said, with a private message from 
Pompey. The message was nothing. The object 
was no more than to gain time. But Csesar had no 
wish for war, and would not throw away a chance of 
avoiding it. He bade his kinsman tell Pompey that 
it was for him to compose the difficulties which had 
arisen without a collision. He had been himself 
misrepresented to his countrymen. He had been 
recalled from his command before his time ; the 
promise given to him about his consulship had been 
broken. He had endured these injuries. He had 
proposed to the Senate that the forces on both sides 
should be disbanded. The Senate had refused. A 
levy had been ordered through Italy, and the legions 
designed for Parthia had been retained. Such an 
attitude could have but one meaning. Yet he was 
still ready to make peace. Let Pompey depart to 
Spain. His own troops should then be dismissed. 
The elections could be held freely, and Senate and 
people would be restored to their joint authority. If 
this was not enough, they two might meet and re- 
lieve each other's alarms and suspicions in a personal 
interview. 

is cast," is unauthenticated, and not at all consistent with Caesar's char* 
•cter. 



Flight of the Senate, 391 

With this answer the envoj^s went, and Csesar 
paused at Rimini. Meanwhile the report reached 
Rome that Csesar had crossed the Rubicon. Tlie 
aristocracy had nursed the pleasant beHef that liis 
heart would fail him, or that his army would desert 
him. His heart had not failed, his army had not de- 
serted ; and, in their terror, they saw him already in 
their midst like an avenging Marius. He januarv 
was coming. His horse had been seen on ^' ^- ^^' 
the Apennines. Flight, instant flight, was the only 
safety. Up they rose, consuls, prsetors, senators, 
leaving wives and children and property to their fate, 
not halting even to take the money out of the treas- 
ury, but contenting themselves with leaving it locked. 
On foot, on horseback, in litters, in carriages, they 
fled for their lives to find safety under Pompey's 
wing in Capua. In this forlorn company went Cic- 
ero, filled with contempt for what was round him. 

"You ask what Pompey means to do," he wrote to 
Atticus. " I do not think he knows himself. Cer- 
tainly none of us know. — It is all panic and blunder. 
We are uncertain whether he will miike a stand, or 
leave Italy. If he stays, I fear his army is too unre- 
liable. If not, where will he go, and how and what 
are his plans ? Like you, I am afraid that Caesar will 
be a Phalaris, and that we may expect the ver}'^ worst. 
The flight of the Senate, the departure of the magis- 
trates, the closing of the treasury, will not stop him. 
— I am broken-hearted ; so ill-advisedly, so against all 
Tny counsels, the whole business has been conducted. 
Shall I turn my coat, and join the victors ? I am 
ashamed. Duty forbids me ; but I am miserable at 
the thought of my children." ^ 

1 To Atticus^ vii. 1S|. 



392 Ccesar. 

A gleam of hope came with the arrival of Labieriiis, 
but it soon clouded. " Labienus is a hero," Cicero 
said. " Never was act more splendid. If nothing 
else comes of it, he has at least made Caesar smart. — - 
We have a civil war on us, not because we have quar- 
relled, among ourselves, but through one abandoned 
citizen. But this citizen has a strong army, and a 
large party attached to him. — What he will do I can- 
not say ; he cannot even pretend to do anything con- 
stitutionally ; but what is to become of us, with a gen- 
eral that cannot lead ? — To say nothing of ten years 
of blundering, what could have been worse than this 
flight from Rome ? His next purpose I know not. I 
ask, and can have no answer. All is cowardice and 
confusion. He was kept at home to protect us, and 
protection there is none. The one hope is in two le- 
gions invidiously detained and almost not belonging 
to us. As to the levies, the men enlist unwillingly, 
and hate the notion of a war." ^ 

In this condition of things Lucius Cgesar arrived 
with the answer from Rimini. A council of war was 
held at Teano to consider it ; and the flames which 
had burnt so hotly at the beginning of the month 
were found to have somewhat cooled. Cato's friend, 
Favonius, was still defiant ; but the rest, even Cato 
himself, had grown more modest. Pompey, it was 
plain, had no army, and could not raise an army. 
C^sar spoke fairly. It might be only treachery ; but 
the Senate had left their families and their property 
in Rome. The public money was in Rome. They 
were willing to consent that Caesar should be consul, 
since so it must be. Unluckily for themselves, they 

1 Delectus .... invitorum est et pugaando ab horrentium. — To At' 
Hciii, vii. 13. 



i 



Pompey^s Reply to Gcesar, 393 

left Pompey to draw up their reply. Pompey in- 
trusted the duty to an incapable person named Ses 
tins, and the answer was ill-written, awkward, and 
wanting on the only point which would have proved 
his sincerity. Pompey declined the proposed inter- 
view. Caesar must evacuate Rimini, and return to 
his province ; afterwards, at some time unnamed. 
Pompey would go to Spain, and other matters should 
be arranged to Ca?sar's satisfaction. Caesar must 
give securities that he would abide by his promise to 
dismiss his troops ; and meanwhile the consular levies 
would be continued. 1 

To Cicero these terms seemed to mean a capitula- 
tion clumsily disguised. Ci;esar interpreted them dif- 
ferently. To him it appeared that he was required 
to part with his own army, while Pompey was form- 
ing another. No time was fixed for the departure to 
Spain. He might be himself named consul, yet Pom- 
pey might be in Italy to the end of the year with an 
army independent of him. Evidently there was dis- 
trust on both sides, yet on Caesar's part a distrust not 
undeserved. Pompey would not see him. He had 
admitted to Cicero that he desired a war to prevent 
Caesar from being consul, and at this very moment 
was full of hopes and schemes for carrying it on suc- 
cessfully. "Pompey writes," reported Cicero on the 
28th of Januar}^, " that in a few days he will have a 
force on which he can rely. He will occupy Pice- 
aum,2 and we are then to return to Rome. Labienus 
assures him that Caesar is utterly weak. Thus he is 
m better spirits." ^ 

1 Compare Caesar's account of these conditions, De Bella Civili, i. 10, 
with Cicero to Atticus, vii. 17. 

2 Between the Appcnnines and the Adriatic, about Ancona; in the lin« 
>f Csesar's march should he advance from Rimini. 

« To Atticus, vii. 16 



394 Ccesar, 

A second legion had by this time arrived at Rim- 
ini. Caesar considered that if the Senate really de- 
sired peace, their disposition would be quickened by 
further pressure. He sent Antony across the mount- 
ains to Arezzo, on the straight road to Rome; and 
he pushed on himself towards Ancona, before Pompey 
had time to throw himself in the way. The towns 
on the way opened their gates to him. The munic- 
ipal magistrates told the commandants that they 
could not refuse to entertain Caius Csesar, who had 
done such great things for the Republic. The officers 
fled. The garrisons joined Csesar's legions. Even a 
colony planted by Labienus sent a deputation with 
offers of service. Steadily and swiftly in gathering 
volume the army of the north came on. At Capua 
all was consternation. "The consuls are helpless," 
Cicero said. " There has been no levy. The com- 
missioners do not even try to excuse their failure. 
With Csesar pressing forward, and our general doing 
nothing, men will not give in their names. The will 
is not wanting, but they are without hope. Pompey, 
Febrijary. miserable and incredible though it be, is 
B. 0. 49. prostrate. He has no courage, no purpose, 

no force, no energy Caius Cassius came on 

the 7th to Capua, with an order from Pompey to the 
consuls to go to Rome and bring away the money 
from the treasury. How are they to go without an 
escort, or how return ? The consuls say he must go 
himself first to Picenum. But Picenum is lost. Cse- 
sar will soon be in Apulia, and Pompey on board ship. 
What shall I do ? I should not doubt had there not 
been such shameful mismanagement, and had I been 
myself consulted. Caesar invites me to peace, bat his 
letter was written before his advance." ^ 

I To Attic^u, vii. 21. 



Capture of Corfinium. 895 

Desperate at the lethargy of their commander, tlie 
aristocracy tried to force him into movement by act- 
ing on their own acconnt. Domitius, who had been 
appointed Caesar's successor, was most interested in 
his defeat. He gathered a party of young lords and 
knights and a few thousand men, and flung himself 
into Corfinium, a strong position in the Apennines^ 
directly in Csesar's path. Pompey had still his two 
h?gions, and Domitius sent an express to tell him that 
Caesar's force was still small, and that with a slight 
effort he might inclose him in the mountains. Mean- 
while Domitius himself tried to break the bridge over 
the Pescara. He was too late. CsBsar had by this 
time nearly 30,000 men. The Cisalpine territories in 
mere enthusiasm had raised twenty-two cohorts for 
him. He reached the Pescara while the bridge was 
still standing. He surrounded Corfinium with the 
impregnable lines which had served him so well in 
Gaul, and the messenger sent to Capua came back 
with cold comfort. Pompey had simply ordered Do- 
mitius to retreat from a position which he ought not 
to have occupied, and to join him in Apulia. It was 
easy to say Retreat ! No retreat was possible. Do- 
mitius and his companions proposed to steal away in 
the night. They were discovered. Their own troops 
arrested them, and carried them as prisoners to Ca9- 
«5ar. Fortune had placed in his hands at the outset 
of the campaign the man who beyond others had been 
the occasion of it. Domitius would have killed Cae- 
sar like a bandit if he had caught him. He probably 
expected a similar fate for himself. Caesar received 
his captives calmly and coldly. He told them that 
they had made an ungrateful return to him for his 
services to his country ; and then dismissed them all, 



896 Ooesar. 

restoring even Domitius's well-filled military chest, 
and too proud to require a promise from liim that he 
would abstain personally from further hostilit}^ His 
army, such as it was, followed the general example, 
and declared for Cassar. 

The capture of Corfinium and the desertion of the 
garrison made an end of hesitation. Pompey and 
the consuls thought only of instant flight, and hurried 
to Brindisi, where ships were waiting for them ; and 
Cassar, hoping that the evident feeling of Italy would 
have its effect with the reasonable part of the Senate, 
sent Cornelius Balbus, who was on intimate terms 
with man}^ of them, to assure them of his eagerness 
for peace, and to tell Cicero especially that he would 
be well contented to live under Pompey's rule if he 
could have a guaranty for his personal safety.^ 

Cicero's trials had been great, and were not dimin- 
ishing. The account given by Balbus was simply 
incredible to him. If Csesar was really as well dis- 
posed as Balbus represented, then the senatorial party, 
himself included, had acted like a set of madmen. 
It might be assumed, therefore, that Caesar was as 
meanly ambitious, as selfish, as revolutionary, as their 
March fcars had represented him, and that his mild- 

B. c. 49. jjggg ^^g nierely affectation. But what then ? 
Cicero wished for himself to be on the right side, but 
also to be on the safe side. Pompey's was the right 
side, the side, that is, which, for his own sake, he 
would prefer to see victorious. But was Pompey's 
the safe side ? or rather, would it be safe to go against 
him ? The necessity for decision was drawing closer. 

- ** Balbus quidem major ad me scribit, nihil malle Cjesarem, quam 
f riscipe Pompeio sine metu vivere. Tu puto haec credis." — To AUictis. 
riii. 9. 



Perplexity of Cicero, 397 

If Pompey and the consuls went abroad, all lo3^al 
senators would be expected to follow them, and to 
stay behind would be held treason. Italy was witli 
Csesar ; but the East, with its treasures, its fleets, its 
millions of men, this was Pompey's, heart and soul. 
The sea was Pompey's. Cc^sar might win for the 
moment, but Pompey might win in the long run. 
The situation was most perplexing. Before the fall 
of Corrniiuni Cicero had poured himself out upon it 
to his friend. " My connections, personal and politi- 
cal," he said, " attach me to Pompey. If I stay be- 
hind, I desert my noble and admirable companions, 
and I fall into the power of a man whom I know not 
how far I can trust. He shows in many ways that he 
wishes me well. I saw the tempest impending, and I 
long ago took care to secure his good- will. But sup- 
pose him to be my friend indeed, is it becoming in a 
good and valiant citizen, who lias held the highest 
offices and done such distinguished things, to be in 
the power of any man? Ought I to expose myself 
to the danger, and perhaps disgrace, which would lie 
before me, should Pompey recover his position ? This 
on one side ; but now look at the other. Pompey has 
shown neither conduct nor courage, and he has acted 
throughout against my advice and judgment. I pass 
over his old errors : how he himself armed this man 
against the constitution ; how he supported his laws by 
violence in the face of the auspices ; how he gave him 
Furthur Gaul, married his' daughter, supported Clo- 
dius, helped me back from exile indeed, but neglected 
me afterwards ; how he prolonged Caesar's command, 
and backed him up in everything ; how in his third 
consulship, when he had begun to defend the consti- 
tution, he yet moved the tribunes to carry a resolu- 



398 CcBsar, 

tion for taking Csesar's name in his absence, and him* 
self sanctioned it by a law of his own ; how he re- 
sisted Marcus Marcellus, who would have ended Cie- 
sar's government on the 1st of March. Let us forget 
all this : but what was ever more disgraceful than the 
ilight from Rome ? What conditions would not have 
beon preferable? He will restore the constitution, 
you say, but when ? by what means ? Is not Picenam 
lost? Is not the road open to the city? Is not our 
money, public and private, all the enemy's ? There 
is no cause, no rallying point for the friends of the 

constitution The rabble are all for Csesar, 

and many wish for revolution I saw from the 

first that Pompey only thought of flight : if I now 
follow him, whither are we to go? CaBsar will seize 
my brother's property and mine, ours perhaps sooner 
than others', as an assault on us would be popular. 
If I stay, I shall do no more than many good men did 
in Cinna's time. — Caesar may be my friend, not cer- 
tainly, but perhaps ; and he may offer me a triumph 
which it would be dangerous to refuse, and invidious 
with the ' good ' to accept. Oh, most perplexing po- 
sition ! — while I write word comes that CaBsar is at 
Corfinium. Domitius is inside, with a strong force 
and eager to fight. I cannot think Pompey will de- 
sert him." ^ 

Pompey did deserj: Domitius, as has been seen.. 
The surrender of Corfinium, and the circumstances of 
it, gave Cicero the excuse which he evidently desired 
tc find for keeping clear of a vessel that appeared to 
him to be going straight to shipwreck. He pleased 
himself with inventing evil purposes for Pompey, to 
justify his leaving him. He thought it possible that 

1 To AUicut, viii. 3. 



Cicero advises Pompey to make Peace. 399 

Domitiiis and bis friends might have been purposely 
left to fall into Csesar's hands, in the hope j-ebruarv 
that Ciesar would kill them and make him- ^ ^- ^^• 
self unpopular. Pompey, he was satisfied, meant as 
much to be a despot as Csesar. Pompey might have 
defended Rome, if he had pleased ; but his purpose 
was to go away and raise a great fleet and a great 
Asiatic army, and come back and ruin Italy, and be 
a new " Sylla." ^ In his distress Cicero wrote both 
to Caesar and to Pompey, who was now at Brindisi. 
To Ceesar he said that, if he wished for peace, he 
might command his services. He had always con- 
sidered that Csesar had been wrongred in the course 
which had been pursued towards him. Envy and ill- 
nature had tried to rob him of the honors which had 
been conferred on him by the Roman people. He 
protested that he had himself supported Caesar's 
claims, and 'had advised others to do the same. But 
he felt for Pompey also, he said, and would gladly be 
of service to him.^ 

To Pompey he wrote ; — 

" My advice was always for peace, even on hard 
terms. I wished you to remain in Rome. You never 
hinted that you thought of leaving Italy. I accepted 
your opinion, not for the constitution's sake, for I 
despaired of saving it. The constitution is gone, and 
cannot be restored without a destructive war ; but I 
wished to be with you, and if I can join you now, I 

1 To AfHcus, viii. 11. 

2 " Judicaviqite te bello violari, contra cujus honorem, populi Roruani 
beneficio concessum, iiiimici atque invidi niterentiir. Sed ut ec .empore 
non modo ipse faiitor dignitatis tute fni, verum etiam cgeteris auc'or ad te 
adjiivandum, sic me nunc Pompeii dignitas vehemeuter movet,'' etc. — 
Cic«ro to CcBsar, inciosed mi a letter to Atticus, ix. 11. 



400 Ccesar, 

will. I know well tliat my conduct has not pleased 
those who desired to fight. I urged peace ; not be- 
cause I did not fear what they feared, but because 
I thought peace a less evil than war. When the war 
Riarch ^^^ bcgun and overtures were made to you, 

B. c. 49. jQ-^ responded so amply and so honorably 

that I hoped I had prevailed I was never 

more friendly with Cifisar than thej^ were ; nor w^ere 
they more true to the State than I. The difference 
between us is this, that while they and I are alike 
good citizens, I preferred an arrangement, and yon, I 
thought, agreed with me. They chose to fight, and 
as their counsels have been taken, I can but do my 
duty as a member of the Commonwealth, and as a 
friend to you." ^ 

In this last sentence Cicero gives his clear opinion 
that the aristocracy had determined upon war, and 
that for this reason and no other the attempted nego- 
tiations had failed. Csesar, hoping that a better feel- 
ing might arise after his dismissal of Domitius, had 
waited a few days at Corfinium. Finding that Pom- 
pey had gone to Brindisi, he then followed, trusting 
to overtake him before he could leave Italy, and again 
by messengers pressed him earnestly for an interview. 
By desertions, and by the accession of volunteers, 
Csesar had now six legions with him. If Pompey 
escaped, he knew that the war would be long and 
dangerous. If he could capture him, or persuade him 
to an agreement, peace could easily be preserved. 
When he arrived outside the town, the consuls with 
naif the army had already gone. Pompey was still 
in Brindisi, with 12,000 men, waiting till the trans- 
ports could return to carry him after them. Pompey 

1 Inclosed to Attic us, viii. 11. 



Pompey leaves Italy. 401 

again refused to see Caesar, and, in the absence of the 
consuls, declined further discussion. Caesar tried to 
blockade him, but for want of ships was unable to 
close the harbor. The transports came back, and 
Pompey sailed for Durazzo.^ 

A few extracts and abridgments of letters will 
complete the picture of this most interesting time. 

Cicero to Atticus.^ 

" Observe the man into whose hands we have 
fallen. How keen he is, how alert, how well pre- 
pared ! By Jove, if he does not kill any one, and 
spares the property of those who are so terrified, he 
will be in high favor. I talk with the tradesmen and 
farmers. They care for nothing but their lands, and 
houses, and money. They have gone right round. 
They fear the man they trusted, and love the man 
they feared ; and all this through our own blunders. 
I am sick to think of it." 

Balhus to Cicero? 

"Pompey and Csesar have been divided by perfidi- 
ous villains. I beseech you, Cicero, use your influ- 
ence to bring them together again. Believe me, Caa- 
sar will not only do all you wish, but will hold you to 
have done him essential service. Would that I could 
say as much of Pompey, who I rather wish than hope 
may be brought to terms ! You have pleased CsDsar 
by begging Lentulus to stay in Italy, and you have 

1 Pompey had for two years meditated on the course which he was uow 
taking. Atticus had spoken of the intended flight from Italy as base. 
Cicero answers : " Hoc turpe Cnaeus noster biennio ante cogitavit : ita Sul- 
laturit animus ejus, et diu proscripturit; " "so he apes Sylla and longs 
<or a proscription." — To Atticus, ix. 10. 

2 To Atticus, viii. 13. 

* Inclosed to Atticu$, viii. 15. 



402 Ccesar, 

more than pleased me. If he will listen to you, will 
trust to what I tell him of Cassar, and will go back to 
Rome, between you and him and the Senate, Caesar 
and Pompey may be reconciled. If I can see this, I 
shall have lived long enough. I know you will ap- 
prove of Cassar's conduct at Corfinium." 

Cicero to Atticus?- 

*' My preparations are complete. I wait till I ckn 
go by the upper sea ; I cannot go by the lower at this 
season. I must start soon, lest I be detained. I do 
not go for Pompey 's sake. I have long known him 
to be the worst of politicians, and I know him now 
for the worst of generals. I go because I am sneered 
at by the Optimates. Precious Optimates ! What 
are they about now ? Selling themselves to Csesar ? 
The towns receive Csesar as a god. When this Pisis- 
tratus does them no harm, they are as grateful to him 
as if he had protected them from others. What re- 
ceptions will they not give him ? What honors will 
they not heap upon him ? They are afraid, are they ? 
By Hercules, it is Pompey that they are afraid of. 
Csesar's treacherous clemency enchants them. Who 
are these Optimates, that insist that I must leave 
Italy, while they remain ? Let them be who they 
may, I am ashamed to stay, though I know what to 
expect. I shall join a man who means not to con- 
quer Italy, but to lay it waste." 

Cicero to Atticus? 

" Ought a mian to remain in his country after it 
has fallen under a tyranny ? Ought a man to use 
any means to overthrow a tyranny, though he may 

1 To AtticuB^ viii. 16. 2 Jb. ix. 4. 



Cicero on the Situation. 403 

ruin his country in doing it ? Ought he not rather 
to try to mend matters by argument as opportunity 
offers? Is it right to make war on one's country for 
the sake of liberty ? Should a man adhere at all 
risks to one party, though he considers them on the 
whole to have been a set of fools ? Is a person who 
has been his country's greatest benefactor, and has 
been rewarded by envy and ill usage, to volunteer 
into danger for such a party ? May he not retire, 
and live quietly with his family, and leave public 
affairs to their fate ? 

" I amuse myself as time passes with these specu- 
lations." 

' Cicero to Atticus?- 

" Pompey has sailed. I am pleased to find that 
you approve of my remaining. My efforts now are 
to persuade Csesar to allow me to be absent from the 
Senate, which is soon to meet. I fear he will refuse. 
I have been deceived in two points. I expected an 
arrangement ; and now I perceive that Pompey has 
resolved upon a cruel and deadly war. By Heaven, 
he would have shown himself a better citizen, and a 
better man, had he borne anything sooner than have 
taken in hand such a purpose." 

Cicero to Atticus? 

" Pompey is aiming at a monarchy after the type 
of Sylla. I know what I say. Never did he show 
his hand more plainly. Has he not a good cause ? 
The very best. But mark me, it will be carried out 
most foully. He means to strangle Rome and Italy 
with famine, and then waste and burn the country, 
*nd seize the property of all who have any. Caesar 
& To Atticw, ix. 6. ^ Ib,^ and 9. 



404 CcBsar, 

may do as ill ; but the prospect is frightful. The 
fleets from Alexandria, Colchis, Sidon, Cyprus, Pam- 
phylia, Lycia, Rhodes, Chios, Byzantium, will be 
employed to cut off our supplies, and then Pompey 
himself will come in his wrath." 

Cicero to Atticus?- 

" I think I have been mad from the beginning of 
this business. Why did not I follow Pompey when 
things were at their worst? I found him (at Capua) 
full of fears. I knew then wliat he would do, and I 
did not like it. He made blunder on blunder. He 
never wrote to me, and only thought of flight. It 
was disgraceful. But now my love for him revives. 
Books and philosophy please me no more. Like the 
sad bird, I gaze night and day over the sea, and long 
to fly away.2 Were flight the worst, it would be 
nothing, but I dread this terrible war, the like of 
which has never been seen. The word will be, " Sylla 
could do thus and thus; and why should not I?" 
Sylla, Marius, Cinna, had each a constitutional cause ; 
yet how cruel was their victory ! I shrank from war 
because I saw that something still more cruel was 
now intended. I, whom some have called the saviour 
and parent of my country ! I to bring Getes, and 
Armenians, and Colchians upon Italy ! I to famish 
my fellow-citizens and waste their lands I Ciesar, I 
reflected, was in the first place but mortal; and then 
there were many ways in which he might be got rid 
of.^ But, as you say, the sun has fallen out of the 

1 To Atlicus, ix. 10. 

2 '*Ita dies et noctes tanquam avis ilia mare prospecto, evolare cupio." 
S *Hunc primum mortalem esse, deinde etiain multis modis extingui 

posse cogitabam." — To Atticus, ix. 10 



Shadow of the Future. 405 

sky. The sick man thinks that while there is life 
there is hope. I continued to hope as long as Pom- 
pey was in Italy. Now your letters are my only 
consolation." 

" Csesar was but mortal ! " The rapture with wliicli 
Cicero hailed Ccesar's eventual murder explains too 
clearly the direction in which his thoughts were al- 
ready running. If the life of Caesar alone stood be- 
tween his country and the resurrection of the consti- 
tution, Cicero might well think, as others have done, 
that it was better that one man should die rather 
than the whole nation perish. We read the words 
with sorrow, and yet with pity. That Cicero, after 
his past flatteries of Ctesar, after the praises which 
he was yet to heap on him, should yet have looked 
on his assassination as a thing to be desired, throws a 
saddening light upon his inner nature. But the age 
was sick with a moral plague, and neither strong nor 
weak, wise nor unwise, bore any antidote against in- 
fection. 



CHAPTER XXIL 

POMPEY was gone, gone to cover the Mediterra- 
^pjji^ nean with fleets which were to starve Italy, 
B.C. 49. ^j-j^ ^Q raise an army which was to bring 
him back to play Sylla's game once more. The con- 
suls had gone with him, more than half the Senate, 
and the young patricians, the descendants of the Me- 
telli and the Scipios, with the noble nature melted 
out of them, and only the pride remaining. Csesar 
would have chased them at once, and have allowed 
them no time to organize, but ships were wanting, 
and he could not wait to form a fleet. Pompey's 
lieutenants, Afranius and Petreius and Varro, were 
in Spain, with six legions and the levies of the prov- 
ince. These had to be promptly dealt with, and 
Sicily and Sardinia, on which Rome depended for its 
corn, had to be cleared of enemies, and placed in 
trustworthy hands. He sent Gurio to Sicily and 
Valerius to Sardinia. Both islands surrendered with- 
out resistance, Cato, who was in command in Mes- 
sina, complaining openly that he had been betrayed. 
Caesar went himself to Rome, which he had not seen 
for ten years. He met Cicero by appointment on 
the road, and pressed him to attend the Senate. 
Cicero's example, he said, would govern the rest. If 
his account of the interview be true, Cicero showed 
more courage than might have been expected from his 
letters to Atticus. He inquired whether, if he went, 
he might speak as he pleased ; he could not consent 



Ccesar at Rome, 407 

to blame Pompey, and he should say that he disap- 
proved of attacks upon him, either in Greece or Spain. 
Caisar said that he could not permit language of this 
kind. Cicero answered that he thought as much, and 
therefore preferred to stay away.^ Csesar let him 
take his own course, and went on by himself. The 
consuls being absent, the Senate was convened by the 
tribunes, Mark Antony and Cassius Longinus, both 
officers in Caesar's army. The house was thin, but 
those present were cold and hostile. They knew by 
this time that they need fear no violence. They inter- 
preted Csesar's gentleness into timidity, but they were 
satisfied that, let them do what they pleased, he would 
not injure them. He addressed the Senate with his 
usual clearness and simplicity. He had asked, he 
said, for no extraordinary honors. He had waited 
the legal period of ten years for a second consulsliip. 
A promise had been given that his name should be 
submitted, and that promise had been withdrawn. 
He dwelt on his forbearance, on the concessions which 
he had offered, and again on his unjust recall, and 
the violent suppression of the legal authority of the 
tribunes. He had proposed terms of peace, he said ; 
he had asked for interviews, but all in vain. If the 
Senate feared to commit themselves by assisting him, 
he declared his willingness to carry on the govern- 
ment in his own name; bat he invited them to send 
deputies to Pompey, to treat for an arrangement. 

The Senate approved of sending a deputation ; but 
Pompey had sworn, on leaving, that he would hold 
9,11 who had not joined him as his enemies ; no one, 
therefore, could be found willing to go. Three days 
were spent in unmeaning discussion, and Csesar's sit- 

1 To Atticus, ii. 18. 



408 Ccesar. 

nation did not allow of trifling. With such people 
nothing could be done, and peace could be won only 
by the sword. By an edict of his own he restored 
the children of the victims of Sylla's proscription to 
tbeir civil rights and their estates, the usurpers being 
mostly in Pompey's camp. The assembly of the peo- 
ple voted him the money in the treasury. Metellus, 
a tribune in Pompey's interest, forbade the opening 
of the doors, but he was pushed out of the way. Cce- 
sar took such money as he needed, and went with his 
best speed to join his troops in Gaul. 

His singular gentleness had encouraged the opposi- 
tion to him in Rome. In Gaul he encoun- 

B. C. 49. 

tered another result of his forbearance more 
practically trying. The Gauls themselves, though so 
latel}^ conquered in so desperate a struggle, remained 
quiet. Then, if ever, they had an opportunity of re- 
asserting their independence. They not only did not 
take advantage of it, but, as if they disdained the 
unworthy treatment of their great enemy, each tribe 
sent him, at his request, a body of horse, led by the 
bravest of their chiefs. His difficulty came from a 
more tainted source. Marseilles, the most important 
port in the western Mediterranean, the gate through 
which the trade of the province passed in and out, 
had revolted to Pompey. Domitius Ahenobarbus, 
who had been dismissed at Corfinium, had been dis- 
patched to encourage and assist the townspeople with 
a squadron of Pompey's fleet. When Csesar arrived, 
Marseilles closed its gates, and refused to receive him. 
He could not afford to leave behind him an open door 
into the province, and he could ill spare troops for a 
siege. Afranius and Petreius were already over the 
Ebro with 30,000 legionaries and with nearly twice 



The Spanish Campaign, 409 

as many Spanisli auxiliaries. Yet Marseilles must 
be shut in, and qaicldy. Fabius was sent forward to 
hold the passes of the Pyrenees. Caesar's soldiers 
were set to work in the forest. Trees were cut down 
and sawn into planks. In thirty days twelve stout 
vessels, able to hold their own against Domitius, were 
built and launched and manned. The fleet thus ex- 
temporized was trusted to Decimus Brutus. Three 
legions were left to make approaches, and, if possible, 
to take the town on the land side ; and, leaving Mar- 
seilles blockaded b}'^ sea and land, Csesar hurried on 
to the Spanish frontier. The problem before him 
was worthy of his genius. A protracted war in the 
peninsula would be fatal. Pompey would return to 
Italy, and there would be no one to oppose liim there. 
The Spanish army had to be destroyed or captured, 
and that immediately ; and it was stronger than Cae- 
sar's own, and was backed by all the resources of the 
province. 

The details of a Roman campaign are no longer in- 
teresting. The results, with an outline of the means 
by which they were brought about, alone concern the 
modern reader. Pompey 's lieutenants, having failed 
to secure the passes, was lying at Lerida, in Catalo- 
nia, at the junction of the Segre and the Naguera, 
with the Ebro behind them, and with a mountain 
range, the Sierra de Llena, on their right flank. 
Their position was impregnable to direct attack. 
From their rear they drew inexhaustible supplies. 
The country in front had been laid waste to the 
Pyrenees, and everything which Csesar required had 
to be brought to him from Gaul. In forty days from 
thft time at which the armies came in sight of each 
otner Afranius and Petreius, with all their legions, 



410 Ccesar, 

were prisoners. Yarro, in the south, was begging for 
peace, and all Spain lay at Csesar's feet. At one 
moment he was almost lost. The melting of the 
snows on the mountains brought a flood down the 
Segre. The bridges were carried away, the fords 
were impassable, and his convoys were at the mercy 
of the enemy. News flew to Rome that all was over, 
that Cassar's army was starving, that he was cut off 
between the rivers, and in a few days must surren- 
der. Marseilles still held out. Porapey's, it seemed, 
was to be the winning "dde, and Cicero and many 
others, who had hung back to watch how events 
would turn, made haste to join their friends in 
Greece before their going had lost show of credit.^ 

1 " Tullia bids me wait till I see how things go in Spain, and she savs 
you are of the same opinion. The advice would be good, if I could adapt 
my conduct to the issue of events there. But one of three alternatives 
must happen. Either Caisar will be driven back, which would please me 
best, or the war will be protracted, or he will be completely victorious. 
If he is defeated, Pompey will thank me little for joining him. Curi(? 
himself will then go over to him. If the war hangs on, how long am I to 
wait? If CjBsar conquers, it is thought we may then have peace. But I 
consider, on the other hand, that it would be more decent to forsake Csesar 
in success than when beaten and in difficulties. The victory of Caesar 
means massacre, confiscation, recall of exiles, a clean sweep of debts, 
every worst man raised to honor, and a rule which not only a Roman cit- 
izen but a Persian could not endure Pompey will not lay downhis 

arms for the loss of Spain ; he holds with Themistocles that those who are 
masters at sea will be the victors in the end. He has neglected Spain. 
He has given all his care to his ships. When the time comes he will re- 
turn to Italy with an overwhelming fleet. And what will he say to me if he 
finds me still sitting here? — Let alone duty, Imust think of the danger. 
.... Every course has it's perils ; but I should surely avoid a course 
is which both ignominious and perilous also. 

"I did not accompany Pompey when he went himself? I could not. i 
had not time. And yet, to confess the truth, I made a mistake which, 
perhaps, I should not hav^e made. I thought there would be peace, and 
I would not have Caesar angry with me after he and Pompey had become 
friends again. Thus I hesitated ; but I can overtake my fault if I lose no 
more time, and I am lost if I delay. — I see that Caesar cannot stand long 
He will fall of himself if we do nothing. When his affairs were most 
flourishing, he became unpopular with the hungry rabble of the city in six 



The Spanish Camiyaign. 411 

The situation was indeed most critical. Even Cse- 
Bar's own soldiers became unsteady. He remarks 
that in civil wars generally men show less composure 
than in ordinary campaigns. But resource in di^- 
culties is the distinction of great generals. He had 
observed in Britain that the coast fishermen used 
boats made out of frames of wicker covered with 
skins. The river banks were fringed with willows. 
There were hides in abundance on the carcases of the 
animals in the camp. Swiftly in these vessels the 
swollen waters of the Segre- were crossed ; the con- 
voys were rescued. The broken bridges were re- 
paired. The communications of the Pompeians were 
threatened in turn, and they tried to fall back over 
the Ebro ; but they left their position only to be in- 
tercepted, and after a few feeble struggles laid down 
their arms. Among the prisoners were found several 
of the young nobles who had been released at Cor- 
finium. It appeared that they regarded Csesar as 
an outlaw with whom obligations were not binding. 
The Pompeian generals had ordered any of Caesar's 
soldiers who fell into their hands to be murdered. 
He was not provoked into retaliation. He again dis- 
missed the whole of the captive force, officers and men, 
contenting himself with this time exacting a promise 
from them that they would not serve against him 

or seven days. He could not keep up the mask. His harshness to INIetellus 
destroyed his credit for clemency, and his taking money from the treas- 
ury destroyed his reputation for riches. 

"As to his followers, how can men govern provinces who cannot man- 
age their own affairs for two months together? Such a monarchy could 

not last half a year. The wisest men have miscalcjlated If that is 

my case, I must bear the reproach but I am sure it will be as I 

3ay. Caesar will fall, either by his enemies or by himself, who is his worst 

enemy I hope I may live to see it, though you and I should be 

thinking more of the other life than of this transitory one; but so it comci 
uo matter wLether I see it or foresee it." — To Aitictis, x. 8. 



412 Ccemr. 

again. They gave their word and broke it. The 
generals and military tribunes made their way to 
Greece to Pompey. Of the rest some enlisted in 
G^sar's legions ; others scattered to combine again 
when opportunity allowed. 

Varro, who commanded a legion in the south, be- 
haved more honorably. He sent in his submission, 
entered into the same engagement, and kept it. He 
was an old friend of Caesar's, and better understood 
him. Caesar, after the victory at Lerida, went down 
to Cordova, and summoned the leading Spaniards 
and Romans to meet him there. All came and 
promised obedience. Varro gave in his accounts, 
with his ships, and stores, and money. Caesar then 
embarked at Cadiz, and went round to Tarragona, 
where his own legions were waiting for him.- From 
Tarragona he marched back by the Pyrenees, and 
came in time to receive in person the surrender of 
Marseilles. 

The siege had been a difficult one, with severe en- 
gagements both by land and sea. Doraitius and his 
galleys had attacked the ungainly but useful vessels 
which Caesar had extemporized. He had been driven 
back with the loss of half his fleet. Pompey had 
sent a second squadron to help him, and this had 
fared no better. It had fled after a single battle and 
never reappeared. The land works had been assailed 
with ingenuity and courage. The agger had been 
burnt and the siege towers destroyed. But they had 
been repaired instantly by the industry of the legions, 
and Marseilles was at the last extremity when Csesar 
arrived. He had wished to spare the townspeople, 
and had sent orders that the place was not to be 
etoxmed. On his appearance the keys of the gates 



State of Rome, 413 

were brought to him without conditions. Again he 
pardoned every one ; more, he said, for the reputa- 
tion of the colony than for the merits of its inhab- 
itants. Domitius had fled in a gale of wind, and 
once more escaped. A third time he was not to be 
so fortunate. 

Two legions were left in- charge of Marseilles ; 
others returned to their quarters in Gaul. Well as 
the tribes had behaved, it was unsafe to presume too 
much on their fidelity, and Caesar was not a parti- 
san chief, but the guardian of the Roman Empire. 
With the rest of his army he returned to Rome at 
the beginning of the 'winter. All had been quiet 
since the news of the capitulation at Lerida. The 
aristocracy had gone to Pompey. The disaffection 
among the people of which Cicero spoke had existed 
only in his wishes, or had not extended beyond the 
classes who had expected from Caesar a general parti- 
tion of property, and had been disappointed. His 
own successes had been brilliant. Spain, Gaul, and 
Italy, Sicily and Sardinia, were entirely his own. 
Elsewhere and away from his own eye things had 
gone less well for him. An attempt to make a naval 
force in the Adriatic had failed ; and young Curio, 
who had done Csesar such good service as tribune, 
had met with a still graver disaster. After 1-ecover- 
ing Sicih^, Curio had been directed to cross to Africa 
and expel Pompey 's garrisons from the province. 
His troops were inferior, consisting chiefly of the gar-i 
rison which had surrendered at Corfinium. 
Through military inexperience he had fallen 
into a trap laid for him by Juba, King of Mauritania, 
and had been killed. 

Caesar regretted Curio personally. The African 



414 Ccesar. 

misfortune was not considerable in itself, but it en- 
couraged hopes and involved consequences which he 
probably foresaw. There was no present leisure, 
however, to attend to Juba. On arriving at the city 
he was named Dictator. As Dictator he held the 
consular elections, and, with Servilius Isauricus for a 
colleague, he was chosen consul for the year which 
had been promised to him, though under circum- 
stances so strangely changed. With curious punctil- 
iousness he observed that the legal interval had ex- 
pired since he was last in office, and that therefore 
there was no formal objection to his appointment. 

Civil affairs were in the wildest confusion. The 
Senate had fled ; the administration had been left 
to Antony, whose knowledge of business was not of 
a high order; and over the whole of Italy hung 
the terror of Pompey's fleet and of an Asiatic inva- 
sion. Public credit was shaken. Debts had not been 
paid since the civil war began. Money-lenders had 
charged usurious interest for default, and debtors 
were crying for novce tahuloe, and hoped to clear them- 
selves by bankruptcy. Csesar had but small leisure 
for such matters. Pompey had been allowed too 
long a respite, and unless he sought Pompey in 
Greece Pompey would be seeking him at home, and 
the horrid scenes of Sylla's wars would be enacted 
over again. He did what he could, risking the loss 
of the favor of the mob by disappointing dishonest 
^ expectations. Estimates were drawn of all debts as 
they stood twelve months before. The principal was 
declared to be still due. The interest for the inter- 
val was cancelled. Many persons complained of in- 
justice which they had met with in the courts of law 
during the time that Pompey was in power. Caasar 



CoRsar at Brindisi, 415 

refused to revise the sentences himself, lest he should 
seem to be encroaching on functions not belonging 
to him ; but he directed that such causes should be 
heard again. 

Eleven days were all he could afford to Rome. So 
swift was Csesar that his greatest exploits were meas- 
ured by days. He had to settle accounts with Pom- 
pey while it was still winter, and while Pompey's 
preparations for the invasion of Italy were still in- 
complete ; and he and his veterans, scarcely allowing 
themselves a breathing-time, went down to Brindisi. 

It was now the beginning of January by the unre- 
formed calendar (by the seasons the middle of Oc- 
tober) — a year within a few days since Caesar had 
crossed the Rubicon. He had nominally twelve le- 
gions under him. But long marches had thinned the 
ranks of his old and best-tried troops. The change 
from the dry climate of Gaul and Spain to the South 
of Italy in a wet autumn had affected the health of 
the rest, and there were many invalids. The force 
available for field service was small for the work 
which was before it : in all not more than 30,000 
men. Pompey's army lay immediately opposite Brin- 
disi, at Durazzo. It was described afterwards as in- 
harmonious and ill-disciplined, but so far as report 
went at the time Caesar had never encountered so for- 
midable an enemy. There were nine legions of Ro- 
man citizens with their complements full. Two more 
were coming up with Scipio from Syria. Besides 
these there were auxiliaries from the allied princes in 
the East ; corps from Greece and Asia Minor, sling- 
ers and archers from Crete and the islands. Of 
money, of stores of all kinds, there was abundance, 
for the Eastern revenue had been all paid for the last 



il6 Ccesar. 

year to Pompey, and tie had levied impositions at hia 
pleasure. 

Such was the Senate's land army, and before Caesar 
could cross swords with it a worse danger lay in his 
path. It was not for nothing that Cicero said that 
Pompey had been careful of his fleet. A hundred and 
thirty ships, the best which were to be had, were dis- 
posed in squadrons along the east shore of the Adri- 
atic ; the headquarters were at Corfu ; and the one 
purpose was to watch the passage and prevent Caesar 
from crossing over. 

Transports run down by vessels of war were in- 
evitably sunk. Twelve fighting triremes, the remains 
of his attempted Adriatic fleet, were all that Caesar 
could collect for a convoy. The weather was wild. 
Even of transports he had but enough to carry half 
his army in a single trip. With such a prospect and 
with the knowledge that if he reached Greece at all 
he would have to land in the immediate neighbor- 
hood of Pompey's enormous host, surprise has been 
expressed that Caesar did not prefer to go round 
through Illyria, keeping his legions together. But 
Caesar had won many victories by appearing where 
he was least expected. He liked well to descend 
like a bolt out of the blue sky ; and, for the very 
reason that no ordinary person would under such cir- 
custances have thought of attempting the passage, he 
determined to try it. Long marches exhausted the 
troops. In bad weather the enemy's fleet preferred 
the harbors to the open sea; and perhaps he had 
a further and special ground of confidence in know- 
ing that the officer in charge at Corfu was his old 
acquaintance, Bibulus — Bibulus, the fool of the 
aristocracy, the butt of Cicero, who had failed in 



Ccesar goes to Greece. 417 

everything which he had undertaken, and had been 
thanked by Cato for his ill successes. Csesar knew 
the men vith whom he had to deal. He knew Pom- 
pey's incapacity ; he knew Bibulus's incapacity. He 
kn^w that public feeling among the people was as 
much on his side in Greece as in Italy. January, 
Above all, he knew his own troops, and felt ^' ^' ^^' 
that he could rely on them, however heavy the odds 
might be. He was resolved to save Italy at all haz- 
ards from becoming the theatre of war, and therefore 
the best road for him was that which would lead 
most swiftly to his end. 

On the 4th January, then, by unreformed time, 
Csesar sailed with 15,000 men and 500 horse from 
Brindisi. The passage was rough but swift, and he 
landed without adventure at Acroceraunia, now Cape 
Linguetta, on the easterfi shore of the Straits of 
Otranto. Bibulus saw him pass from the heights of 
Corfu, and put to sea, too late to intercept him — in 
time, however, unfortunately, to fall in with the re- 
turning transports. Csesar had started them immedi- 
ately after disembarking, and had they made use of 
the darkness they might have gone over unperceived ; 
they lingered and were overtaken ; Bibulus captured 
thirty of them, and, in rage at his own blunder, 
killed every one that he found on board. 

Ignorant of this misfortune, and expecting that 
A^ntony would follow him in a day or two with the 
remainder of the army, Caesar advanced at once to- 
wards Durazzo, occupied Apollonia, and intrenched 
himself on the left bank of the river Apsus. The 
country, as he anticipated, was well-disposed and fur- 
nished him amply with supplies. He still hoped to 
persuade Pompey to come to terms with him. He 

27 



118 Coesar. 

trusted, perhaps not unreasonably, that the generos- 
ity with which he had treated Marseilles and the 
Spanish legions might have produced an effect ; and 
he appealed once more to Pompey's wiser judgment. 
Vibullius Rufus, who had been taken at Corfinium, 
and a second time on the Lerida, had since remained 
with Csesar. Rufus, being personally known as an 
ardent member of the Pompeian party, was sent for- 
ward to Durazzo with a message of peace. 

" Enough had been done," Csesar said, " and For- 
tune ought not to be tempted further. Pompey had 
lost Italy, the two Spains, Sicily, and Sardinia, and a 
hundred and thirty cohorts of his soldiers had been ' 
captured. Csesar had lost Curio and the army of 
Africa. They were thus on an equality, and might 
spare their country the consequences of further ri- 
valry. If either he or Pompey gained a decisive ad- 
vantage, the victor would be compelled to insist on 
harder terms. If they could not agree, Csesar was 
willing to leave the question between them to the 
Senate and people of Rome, and for themselves, he 
proposed that they should each take an oath to dis- 
band their troops in three days." 

Pompey, not expecting Csesar, was absent in Ma- 
cedonia when he heard of his arrival, and was hurry- 
ing back to Durazao. Csesar's landing had produced 
a panic in his camp. Men and officers were looking 
anxiously in each other's faces. So great was the 
alarm, so general the distrust, that Labienus had 
sworn in the presence of the army that he would 
stand faithfully by Pompey. Generals, tribunes, and 
centurions had sworn after him. They had then 
moved up to the Apsus and encamped on the oppo- 
site side of the river, waiting for Pompey to come up. 



I 



Death of Bihulus, 419 

There "was now a pause on both sides. Antony 
was unable to leave Brindisi, Bibulus being on the 
watch da}^ and night. A single vessel attempted 
the passage. It was taken, and every one on board 
was massacred. The weather was still wild, and 
both sides suffered. If Csesar's transports could not 
put to sea, Bibukis's crews could not land either for 
fuel or water anywhere south of Apollonia. Bibulus 
held on obstinately till he died of exposure to wet 
and cold, so ending his useless life ; but his death did 
not affect the situation favorably for Csesar; his com- 
mand fell into abler hands. 

At length Pompey arrived. Vibullius Rufus deliv- 
ered his message. Pompey would not hear February 
him to the end. "What care I," he said, b.c.48.' 
" for life or country if I am to hold both by the fa- 
vor of Caesar ? All men will think thus of me if I 

make peace now I left Italy. Men will say 

that Csesar has brought me back." 

In the legions the opinion was different. The two 
armies were divided only by a narrow river. Friends 
met and talked. They asked each other for what 
purpose so desperate a war had been undertaken. 
The regular troops all idolized Caesar. Deputations 
from both sides were chosen to converse and consult, 
with Csesar's warmest approval. Some arrangement 
might have followed. But Labienus interposed. He 
appeared at the meeting as if to join in the confer- 
ence ; he was talking in apparent friendliness to 
Cicero's acquaintance, Publius Vatinius, who was 
serving with Caesar. Suddenly a shower of daits 
were hurled at Vatinius. His men flung themselves 
in front of him and covered his body; but most of 
them were wounded, and the assembly broke up in 



420 Ccesar, 

confusion, Labienus shouting, " Leave your talk of 
composition ; there can be no peace till you bring us 
Csesar's head." 

Cool thinkers were beginning to believe that Csesar 
was in a scrape from which his good fortune would 
this time fail to save him. Italy was on the whole 
steady, but the slippery politicians in the capital were 
on the watch. They had been disappointed on find- 
ing that Caesar would give no sanction to confisca- 
tion of property, and a spark of fire burst out which 
showed that the elements of mischief were active as 
ever. Cicero's correspondent, Marcus Cselius, had 
thrown himself eagerly on Csesar's side at the begin- 
ning of the war. He had been left as praetor at 
Rome when Csesar went to Greece. He in his wis- 
dom conceived that the wind was changing, and that 
it was time for him to earn his pardon from Pompey. 
He told the mob that Csesar would do nothing for 
them, that Csesar cared only for his capitalists. He 
April wrote privately to Cicero that he was bring- 

B. c. 48. jj^g them over to Pompey,^ and he was do- 
ing it in the way in which pretended revolutionists 
so often play into the hands of reactionaries. He 
proposed a law in the assembly in the spirit of Jack 
Cade, that no debts should be paid in Rome for six 
years, and that every tenant should occupy his house 
for two years free of rent. The administrators of 
\:he Government treated him as a madman, and de- 
posed him from office. He left the city pretending 
that he was going to Csesar. The once notorious 
Milo, who had been in exile since his trial for the 

- " Nam liic nunc prseter foeneratores paacos nee homo nee ordo qais- 
qciH efet nisi Pompeianus. Equidem jam effeci ut maxime plebs et qui 
antea noster f uit populus vester esset." — Cselius to Cicero, Ad Fam. viii. 
17. 



Antony Sails for Greece. 421 

murder of Clodius, privately joined him ; and to- 
gether they raised a band of gladiators in Campania, 
professing to have a commission from Pompey. Milo 
was killed. Caelius fled to Thurii, where he tried to 
seduce Caesar's garrison, and was put to death for his 
treiachery. The familiar actors in the drama were 
beginning to drop. Bibulus was gone, and now Ca> 
lius and Milo. Fools and knaves are usually the first 
to fall in civil distractions, as they and their works 
are the active causes of them. 

Meantime months passed away. The winter wore 
through in forced inaction, and Caesar watched in 
vain, for the sails of his coming transports. The 
Pompeians had for some weeks blockaded Brindisi. 
Antony drove them off with armed boats ; but still 
he did not start, and Cassar thought that opportuni- 
ties had been missed.^ He wrote to Antony sharply. 
The legions, true as steel, were ready for any risks 
sooner than leave their commander in danger. A 
south wind came at last, and they sailed. They 
were seen in mid-channel, and closely pursued. 
Night fell, and in the darkness they were swept past 
Durazzo, to which Pompey had again withdrawn, 
with the Pompeian squadron in full chase behind 
them. They ran into the harbor of Nymphsea, three 
miles north of Lissa, and were fortunate in entering 
it safely. Sixteen of the pursuers ran upon the 
rocks, and the crews owed their lives to Caesar's 
troops, who saved them. So Cassar mentions briefly, 
in silent contrast to the unvarying ferocity of the 
Pompeian leaders. Two only of the transports which 

1 Caesar says nothing of his putting to sea in a boat, meaning to go 
over in person, and being driven back bj' the weather. The story is 
probably no more than one of the picturesque additions to reality made by 
Ven who find truth too tame for them. 



422 Ccesar, 

had left Brindisi were missing in the morning. 
They had gone by mistake into Lissa, and were sur- 
rounded by the boats of the enemy, who promised 
that no one should be injured if they surrendered. 
"Here," says Csesar, in a characteristic sentence, 
*' may be observed the value of firmness of mind." 
One of the vessels had two hundred and twenty 
young soldiers on board, the other two hundred 
veterans. The recruits were sea-sick and frightened. 
They trusted the enemy's fair words, and were im- 
mediately murdered. The others forced their pilot 
to run the ship ashore. They cut their way through 
a band of Pompey's cavalry, and joined their gom- 
rades without the loss of a man. 

Antony's position was most Jangerous, for Pompey's 
whole army lay between him and Csesar ; but Cassar 
marched rapidly round Durazzo, and had joined his 
friend before Pompey knew that he had moved. 

Though still far outnumbered, Csesar was now in a 
condition to meet Pompey in the field, and desired 
nothing so much as a decisive action. Pompey would 
not give him the opportunit}^, and kept within his 
lines. To show the world, therefore, how matters 
stood between them, CsBsar drew a line of strongly 
fortified posts round Pompey's camp and shut him 
in. Force him to a surrender he could not, for the 
Bea was open, and Pompey's fleet had entire com- 
mand of it. But the moral effect on Italy of the 
news that Pompey was besieged might, it was hoped, 
force him out from his intrenchments. If Pompey 
jjay could not venture to engage Cassar on his 

^- ^- ^- own chosen ground, and surrounded by his 
Eastern friends, his cause at home would be aban- 
doned as lost. .Nor was the active injury which 



Siege of Burazzo. 423 

Caesar was able to inflict inconsiderable. He turned 
the streams on which Pomp83^'s camp depended for 
water. The horses and cattle died. Fever set in 
with other inconveniences. The labor of the siege 
was, of coarse, severe. The lines were many miles 
in length, and the difficulty of sending assistance to 
a point threatened by a sally was extremely great. 
The corn in the fields was still green, and supplies 
grew scanty. Meat Caesar's arm}^ had, but of wheat 
little or none ; they were used to hardship, however, 
and bore it with admirable humor. They made 
cakes out of roots, ground into paste and mixed with 
milk ; and thus, in spite of privation and severe work, 
they remained in good health, and deserters daily 
came in to them. 

So the siege of Durazzo wore on, diversified with 
occasional encounters, which Csesar details with the 
minuteness of a scientific general writing for his pro- 
fession, and with those admiring mentions of each in- 
dividual act of courage which so intensely endeared 
him to his troops. Once an accidental opportunity 
offered itself for a successful storm, but Csesar was 
not on the spot. The officer in command shrank 
from responsibility ; and, notwithstanding the seri- 
ousness of the consequences, Caesar said that the 
officer was right. 

Pompey's army was not yet complete. Metellus 
Scipio had not arrived with the Syrian legions. 
Scipio had come leisurely through Asia Minor, plun- 
dering cities and temples and flaying the people with 
requisitions. He had now reached Macedonia, and 
Doraitius Calvinus had been sent with a separate 
command to watch him. Caesar's own force, already 
too small for the business on hand, was thus further 



424 Ocesar. 

I'educed, and at this moment there fell out one of 
jy^g those accidents which overtake at times the 

B. c. 48. ablest commanders, and gave occasion for 
Csesar's observation, that Pompey knew not how to 
conquer. 

There were two young Gauls with Csesar whom he 
had promoted to important positions. They were re- 
ported to have committed various peculations. Csesar 
spoke to them privately. They took offence and de- 
serted. There was a weak spot in Csesar's lines at 
a point the furthest removed from the body of the 
army. The Gauls gave Pompey notice of it, and on 
this point Pompey flung himself with his whole 
strength. The attack was a surprise. The engage- 
ment which followed was desperate and unequal, for 
the reliefs were distant and came up one by one. 
For once Caesar's soldiers were seized with panic, lost 
their order, and forgot their discipline. On the news 
of danger he flew himself to the scene, threw himself 
into the thickest of the fight, and snatched the stand- 
ards from the flying bearers. But on this single occa- 
sion he failed in restoring confidence. The defeat 
was complete ; and, had Pompey understood his busi- 
ness, Caesar's whole army might have been over- 
thrown. Nearly a thousand men were killed, with 
many field officers and many centurions. Thirty-two 
standards were lost, and some hundreds of legionaries 
were taken. Labienus begged the prisoners of Pom- 
pey. He called them mockingly old comrades. He 
asked them how veterans came to fly. They were 
led into the midst of the camp and were all killed. 

Caesar's legions had believed themselves invincible. 
The effect of this misfortune was to mortify and in- 
furiate them. They were eager to fling themselves 



Retreat of Ocesar, 425 

again upon the enemy and win back their laurels; 
but Caesar saw that they were excited and unsteady, 
and that they required time to collect themselves. 
He spoke to them with his usual calm cheerfulness. 
He praised their courage. He reminded them of 
their many victories, and bade them not be cast down 
at a misadventure which they would soon repair ; but 
he foresaw that the disaster would affect the temper 
of Greece and make his commissariat more difficult 
than it was already. He perceived that he must 
adopt some new plan of campaign, and with instant 
decision he fell back upon Apollonia. 

The gleam of victory was the cause of Pompey's 
ruin. It was unlooked for, and the importance of it 
exaggerated. Caesar was supposed to be flying with 
the wreck of an army completely disorganized and 
disheartened. So sure were the Pompeians that it 
could never rally again that they regarded the war as 
over; they made no efforts to follow up a success 
which, if improved, might have been really decisive ; 
and they gave Caesar the one thing which he needed, 
time to recover from its effects. After he had placed 
his sick and wounded in securit}^ at Apollonia, his 
first object was to rejoin Calvinus, who had been sent 
to watch Scipio, and might now be cut off. Fortune 
was here favorable. Calvinus, by mere accident, 
learnt his danger, divined where Caesar would be, and 
came to meet him. The next thing was to see what 
Pompey would do. He might embark for Italy. In 
this case Caesar would have to follow him hj Illyria 
and the head of the Adriatic. Cisalpine Gaul was 
true to him, and could be relied on to refill his ranks. 
Or Pompey might pursue him in the hope to make 
ftn end of the war in Greece, and an opportunity 



426 Ccesar, 

might offer itself for an engagement under fairer 
terms. On the whole he considered the second alter- 
native the more likely one, and with this expectation 
he led his troops into the rich plains of Thessaly for 
the better feeding which they so much needed. The 
news of his defeat preceded him. Gomphi, an im« 
portant Thessalian town, shut its gates upon him ; 
j^jy^ and, that the example might not be fol- 

B. c. 48. lowed, Gomphi was instantly stormed and 
given up to plunder. One such lesson was enough. 
No more opposition was ventured by the Greek cities. 
Pompey meanwhile had broken up from Durazzo, 
and after being joined by Scipio was follov^ing lei- 
surely. There were not wpmting persons who warned 
him that Caesar's legions might still be dangerous. 
Both Cicero and Cato had advised him to avoid a 
battle, to allow Caesar to wander about Greece till 
his supplies failed and his army was worn out by 
marches. Pompey himself was inclined to the same 
opinion. But Pompey was no longer able to act on 
his own judgment. The senators who were with 
him in the camp considered that in Greece, as in 
Rome, they were the supreme rulers of the Roman 
Empire. All along they had held their sessions and 
their debates, and they had voted resolutions which 
they expected to see complied with. They had never 
liked Pompey. If Cicero was right in supposing that 
Pompey meant to be another Sylla, the senators had 
no intention of allowing it. They had gradually 
wrested his authority out of his hands, and reduced 
him to the condition of an officer of a Senatorial Di- 
rectory. These gentlemen, more especially the two 
late consuls, Scipio and Lentulus, were persuaded 
that a single blow would now make an end of Ca3sar» 



The Eve of Fharsalia. 427 

Hia army was but half the size of theirs, without 
counting the Asiatic auxiliaries. The men, they 
were persuaded, were dispirited by defeat and worn 
out. So sure were they of victory that they were im- 
patient of every day which delayed their return to 
Italy. They accused Pompey of protracting the war 
unnecessarily, that he might have the honor of com- 
manding such distinguished persons as themselves. 
They had arranged everything that was to be done. 
Ca3sar and his band of cut-throats were in imagina- 
tion already dispatched. They had butch- August 9, 
ered hitherto every one of them who had ^•^•^8- 
fallen into their hands, and the same fate was de- 
signed for their political allies. They proposed to 
establish a senatorial court after their return to Italy 
in which citizens of all kinds who had not actually 
fought on the Senate's side were to be brought up for 
trial. Those who should be proved to have been 
active for Caesar were to be at once killed, and their 
estates confiscated. Neutrals were to fare almost as 
badly. Not to have assisted the lawful rulers of the 
State was scarcely bettef than to have rebelled against 
them. They, too, were liable to death or forfeiture, 
or both. A third class of offenders was composed of 
those who had been within Pompey's lines, but had 
borne no part in the fighting. These cold-hearted 
friends were to be tried and punished according to 
the degree of their criminality. Cicero was the per- 
son pointed at in the last division. Cicero's clear ' 
judgment had shown him too clearly what was likely 
to be the result of a campaign conducted as he found 
it on his arrival, and he had spoken his thoughts with 
sarcastic freedom. • The noble lords came next to a 
quarrel among themselves as to how the spoils of 



428 Coesar. 

Caesar were to be divided. Domitius Alienobarbus, 
Lentulus Spintlier, and Scipio were unable to deter- 
mine which of them was to succeed Caesar as Ponti- 
fex Maximus, and which was to have his palace and 
gardens in Rome. The Roman oligarchy were true 
to their character to the eve of their ruin. It was 
they, with their idle luxury, their hunger for lands 
and oflBce and preferment, who had brought all this 
misery upon their country ; and standing, as it were, 
at the very bar of judgment, with the sentence of 
destruction about to be pronounced upon them, 
their thoughts were still bent upon how to secure the 
largest share of plunder for themselves. 

The battle of Pharsalia was not the most severe, 
still less was it the last, action of the war. But it 
acquired a special place in history, because it was a 
battle fought by the Roman aristocracy in their own 
persons in defence of their own supremacy. Sena- 
tors and the sons of senators ; the heirs of the names 
and fortunes of the ancient Roman families ; the 
leaders of society in Roman saloons, and the chiefs of 
the political party of the Opti-mates in the Curia and 
Forum, were here present on the field ; representa- 
tives in person and in principle of the traditions ot 
Sylla, brought face to face with the representative of 
Marius. Here were the men who had pursued Cae- 
sar through so many years with a hate so inveter- 
ate. Here were the haughty Patrician Guard, who 
had drawn their swords on him in the Senate-house, 
young lords whose theory of life was to lounge 
through it in patrician insouciance. The other great 
actions were fought by the ignoble multitude whose 
deaths were of less significance. The plains of Phar- 
Balia were watered by the precious blood of the elect 



Pharsalia. 429 

of the earth. The battle there marked an epoch like 
no other in the history of the world. 

For some days the two armies had watched each 
other's movements. Ccesar, to give his men confi- 
dence, had again offered Pompey an opporturiity of 
fighting. But Pompey had kept to positions where 
he could not be attacked. To draw him into more 
open ground, C^sar had shifted his camp continually. 
Pompey had followed cautiously, still remaining on 
his guard. His political advisers were impatient of 
these dilatory movements. They taunted him with 
cowardice. They insisted that he should set his foot 
on this insignificant adversary promptly and at once ; 
and Pompey, gathering courage from their confidence, 
and trusting to his splendid cavalry, agreed at last to 
use the first occasion that presented itself. 

One morning, on the Enipeus, near Larissa, the 9th 
of August, old style, or towards the end of May by 
real time, Caesar had broken up his camp and was 
preparing for his usual leisurely march, when he per- 
ceived a movement in Pompey's lines which told him 
that the movement which, he had so long expected 
was come. Labienus, the evil genius of the Senate, 
who had tempted them into the war by telling them 
that his comrades were as disaffected as himself, and 
had fired Caesar's soldiers into intensified fierceness 
by his barbarities at Durazzo, had spoken the decid- 
ing word : '* Believe not," Labienus had said, " that 
this is the army which defeated the Gauls and the 
Germans. I was in those battles, and what I say I 
know. That array has disappeared. Part fell in ac- 
tion ; part perished of fever in the autumn in Italy. 
"Many went home. Many were left behind unable to 
xnove. The men you see before you are levies newly 



430 Ccesar. 

drawn from the colonies beyond the Po. Of the vet- 
erans that were left the best were killed at Durazzo.'' 

A council of war had been held at dawn. There 
had been a solemn taking of oaths again. Labienus 
swore tha.t he would not return to the camp except as 
a conqueror ; so swore Pompey ; so swore Lentulus, 
Scipio, Domitius ; so swore all the rest. They had 
reason for their high spirits. Pompey had forty- 
seven thousand Roman infantry, not including his 
allies, and seven thousand cavalry. Caesar had but 
twenty-two thousand, and of horse only a thousand. 
Pompey 's position was carefully chosen. His right 
wing was covered by the Enipeus, the opposite bank 
of which was steep and wooded. His left spread out 
into the open plain of Pharsalia. His plan of battle 
was to send forward his cavalry outside over the open 
ground, with clouds of archers and slingers, to scat- 
ter Caesar's horse, and then to wheel round and en- 
velop his legions. Thus he had thought. they would 
lose heart and scatter at the first shock. Caesar had 
foreseen what Pompey would attempt to do. His 
own scanty cavalry, mostly Gauls and Germans, would, 
he well knew, be unequal to the weight which would 
be thrown on them. He had trained an equal number 
of picked active men to fight in their ranks, and had 
thus doubled their strength. Fearing that this might 
be not enough, he had taken another precaution. The 
usual Roman formation in battle was in triple line. 
Caesar had formed a fourtlMine of cohorts specially 
selected to engage the cavalry ; and on them, he said, 
in giving them their instructions, the result of the ac- 
tion would probably depend. 

Pompey commanded on his own left with the two 
legions which he had taken from Ca3sar; outside him 



PJiarsalia. 431 

on the plain were his flying companies of Greeks and 
islanders, with the cavalry covering them. Caesar, 
with his favorite 10th, was opposite Pompey. His 
two faithful tribunes, Mark Antony and Cassius 
Longinus, led the left and centre. Servilia's son, 
Marcus Brutus, was in Pompey 's army. Caesar had 
given special directions that Brutus, if recognized, 
should not be injured. Before the action began he 
spoke a few general words to such of his troops as 
could hear him. They all knew, he said, how ear- 
nestly he had sought for peace, how careful he had al- 
ways been of his soldiers' lives, how unwilling to 
deprive the State of the services of any of her citi- 
zens, to whichever party they might belong. Crasti- 
nus, a centurion, of the 10th legion, already known 
to Csesar for his gallantry, called out, ".Follow me, 
my comrades, and strike, and strike home, for your 
general. This one battle remains to be fought, and 
he will have his rights and we our liberty. General," 
he said, looking to Csesar, •-' I shall earn your thanks 
this day, dead or alive." 

Pompey had ordered his first line to stand still to 
receive Caesar's charge.^ They would thus be fresh, 
while the enemy would reach them exhausted — a 
mistake on Pompey's part, as Csesar thought ; " for a 
fire and alacrity (he observes) is kindled in all men 
when they meet in battle, and a wise general should 
rather encourage than repress their fervor." 

The signal was given. Caesar's front rank advanced 
running. Seeing the Pompeians did not move, they 
halted, recovered breath, then rushed on, flung their 

1 I follow Caesar's own account of the action. Appian is minutely cir- 
cumstantial, aud professes to describe from the narratives of eye-witnesses. 
But his story varies so far from Caesar's as to be irreconcilable with it, and 
Caesar's own authority is incomparably the best. 



432 Ccesar. 

darts, and closed sword in hand. At once Pompey's 
horse bore down, outflanking Csesar's right wing, with 
the archers behind and between them raining show- 
ers of arrows. Caesar's cavalry gave way before the 
shock, and the outer squadrons came wheeling round 
to the rear, expecting that there would be no one to 
encounter them. The fourth line, the pick and flower 
of the legions, rose suddenly in their way. Surprised 
and shaken by the fierceness of the attack on them, 
the Pompeians turned, they broke, they galloped 
wildly off. The best cavalry in those Roman battles 
were never a match for infantry when in close forma- 
tion, and Pompey's brilliant squadrons were carpet 
knights from the saloon and the circus. They never 
rallied, or tried to rally ; they made off for the near- 
est hills. The archers were cut to pieces ; and the 
chosen corps, having finished so easily the service for 
which they had been told off, threw themselves on 
the now exposed flank of Pompey's left wing. It was 
composed, as has been said, of the legions which had 
once been Caesar's, which had fought under him at 
the Vingeanne and at Alesia. They ill liked, per- 
haps, the change of masters, and were in no humor to 
stand the charge of their old comrades coming on 
with the familiar rush of victory. Caesar ordered up 
his third line, which had not yet been engaged ; and 
at once on all sides Pompey's great army gave way, 
and fled. Pompey himself, the shadow of his old 
name, long harassed out of self-respect by his senato- 
rial directors, a commander only in appearance, had 
left the field in the beginning of the action. He had 
lost heart on the defeat of the cavalry, and had re- 
tired to his tent to wait the issue of the day. 

The stream of fugitives pouring in told him too 



Fharsalia. 433 

surely what the issue had been. He sprang upon his 
horse and rode off in despair. His legions were rush- 
ing back in confusion. Caesar, swift always at the 
right moment, gave the enemy no leisure to re-form, 
and fell at once upon the camp. It was noon, and 
the morning had been sultry ; but heat and weariness 
were forgotten in the enthusiasm of a triumph which 
all then believed must conclude the war. A few com- 
panies of Thracians, who had been left on guard, 
made a brief resistance, but they were soon borne 
down. The beaten army, which a few hours before 
were sharing in imagination the lands and offices of 
their conquerors, fled out through the opposite gates, 
throwing away their arms, flinging down their stand- 
ards, and racing, officers and men, for the rocky hills 
which at a mile's distance promised them shelter. 

The camp itself was a singular picture. Houses of 
turf had been built for the luxurious patricians, with 
ivy trained over the entrances to shade their delicate 
faces from the summer sun ; couches had been laid 
out for them to repose on after their expected vic- 
tory; tables were spread with plate and wines, and 
the daintiest preparations of Roman cookery. Cassar 
commented on the scene with mournful irony. " And 
these men," he said, " accused my patient, suffering 
army, which had not even common necessaries, of 
dissoluteness and profligacy ! " 

Two hundred only of Caesar's men had fallen. 
The officers had suffered most. The gallant Crasti- 
nus, who had nobly fulfilled his promise, had been 
killed, among many others, in opening a way for his 
comrades. The Pompeians, after the first shock, had 
been cut down unresisting. Fifteen thousand of them 
lay scattered dead about the ground. There were 

28 



434 Ccesar, 

few wounded in these battles. The slio/t sword of 
the Komans seldom left its work unfinished. 

" They would have it so," C^sar is reported to have 
said, as he looked sadly over the littered bodies in the 
familiar patrician dress. " After all that I had done 
for my country, I, Caius Caesar, should have been con- 
demned by them as a criminal if I had not appealed 
to my army."^ 

But Caesar did not wait to indulge in reflections. 
His object was to stamp the fire out on the spot, that 
it might never kindle again. More than half the 
Pompeians had reached the hills and were making for 
Larissa. Leaving part of his legions in the camp to 
rest, Csesar took the freshest the same evening, and 
by a rapid march cut off their line of retreat. The 
hills were waterless, the weather suffocating. A few 
of the guiltiest of the Pompeian leaders, Labienus, 
Lentulus, Afranius, Petreius, and Metellus Scipio 
(Cicero and Cato had been left at Durazzo), contrived 
to escape in the night. The rest, twenty-four thou- 
sand of them, surrendered at daylight. They came 
down praying for mercy which they had never shown, 
sobbing out their entreaties on their knees that the 
measure which they had dealt to others might not be 
meted out to them. Then and always Caesar hated 
unnecessary cruelty, and never, if he could help it, al- 
lowed executions in cold blood. He bade them rise, 
said a few gentle words to relieve their fears, and sent 
them back to the camp. Domitius Ahenobarbus, be- 
lieving that for him at least there could be no forgive- 
ness, tried to escape, and was killed. The rest were 
pardoned. 

So ended the battle of Pharsalia. A hundred and 

^ Suetonius, quoting from Asinius Pollio, who was present at the battle. 



Cicero's Reflections. 435 

eighty standards were taken and all the eagles of 
Pompey's lesjions. In Pompey's own tent 
was lound nis secret correspondence, impli- 
cating persons, perhaps, Avhom Ceesar had never sus- 
pected, revealing the mysteries of the past three years. 
Curiosity and even prudence might have tempted him 
to look into it. His only wish was that the past 
should be forgotten : he burnt the whole mass of pa- 
pers unread. 

Would the war now end ? That was the question. 
Caesar thought that it would not end as long as Pom- 
pey was at large. The feelings of others may be 
gathered out of abridgments from Cicero's letters : — 

Cicero to Plancius?- 

" Victory on one side meant massacre, on the other 
slavery. It consoles me to remember that I foresaw 
these things, and as much feared the success of our 
cause as the defeat of it. I attached myself to Pom- 
pey's party more in hope of peace than from desire of 
war ; but I saw, if we had the better, how cruel would 
be the triumph of an exasperated, avaricious, and in- 
solent set of men ; if we were defeated, how many of 
our wealthiest and noblest citizens must fall. Yet 
when I argued thus and offered my advice I was 
taunted for being a coward. " 

Cicero to Caius Cassius? 

" We were both opposed to a continuance of the 
war [after Pharsalia]. I, perhaps, more than you; 
but we agreed that one battle should be accepted as 
decisive, if not of the whole cause, yet of our own 
judgment upon it. Nor were there any who differed 

1 Ad Familiares, iv. 14. 2 /^. xv. 15. 



436 Omar, 

from us save those who thought it better that the 
constitution should be destroyed altogether than be 
presei-ved with diminished prerogatives. For myself 
I could hope nothing from the overthrow of it, and 

much if a remnant could be saved And I 

thought it likely that after that decisive battle the 
victors would consider the welfare of the public, ind 
that the vanquished would consider their own." 

To Varro?- 

" You were absent [at the critical moment]. I for 
myself perceived that our friends wanted war, and 
that Caesar did not want it, but was not afraid of it. 
Thus much of human purpose was in the matter. 
The rest came necessarily ; for one side or the other 
would, of course, conquer. You and I both grieved 
to see how the State would suffer from the loss of 
either army and its generals ; we knew that victory 
in a civil war was itself a most miserable disaster. I 
dreaded the success of those to whom I had attached 
myself. They threatened most cruelly those who 
had stayed quietly at home. Your sentiments and 
my speeches were alike hateful to them. If our side 
had won, they would have shown no forbearance." 

To Marcus Marius.^ 

" When you met me on the 13th of May (49), you 
were anxious about the part which I was to take. 
If I stayed in Italy, you feared that I should be 
wanting in duty. To go to the war you thought 
dangerous for me. I was myself so disturbed that I 
could not tell what it was best for me to do. I con- 
sulted my reputation, however, more than my safety ; 

1 Ad Fam. ix. 6. 2 /6. yii. 3. 



Cicero's Reflections. 437 

and if I afterwards repented of my decision it was 
not for the peril to myself, but on account of the 
state of things which I found on my arrival at Pom- 
pey's camp. His forces were not very considerable 
nor good of their kind. For the chiefs, if I except 
the general and a few others, they were rapacious in 
their conduct of the war, and so savage in their lan- 
guage that I dreaded to see them victorious. The 
most considerable among them were overwhelmed 
with debt. There was nothing good about them but 
their cause. I despaired of success and recommended 
peace. When Pompey would not hear of it, I ad- 
vised him to protract the war. This for the time he 
approved, and he might have continued firm but for 
the confidence which he gathered from the battle at 
Durazzo. From that day the great man ceased to be 
a general. With a raw and inexperienced army he 
engaged legions in perfect discipline. On the defeat 
he basely deserted his camp and fled by himself. For 
me this was the end : I retired from a war in which 
the only alternatives before me were either to be 
killed in action or be taken prisoner, or fly to Juba in 
Africa, or hide in exile, or destroy myself." 

To Ccecina} 

" I would tell y^u my prophecies but that you 
would think I had made them after the event. But 
many persons can bare me witness that I first warned 
Pompey against attaching himself to Csesar, and 
then against quarrelling with him. Their union 
(I said) had broken the power of the Senate ; their 
discord would cause a civil war. I was intimate with 
Caesar ; I was most attached to Pompey ; but my ad- 

1 Ad Fam. vi. 6. 



438 Ccesar. 

vice was for the good of them both 1 thought 

that Pompey ought to go to Spain. Had he done so, 
the war would not have been. I did not so much in- 
sist that Csesar could legally stand for the consulship 
as that his name should be accepted, because the peo- 
ple had so ordered at Pompey's own instance. I ad- 
vised, I entreated. I preferred the most unfair peace 
to the most righteous war. I was overborne, not so 
much by Pompey (for on him I produced an effect) 
as by men who relied on Pompey's leadership to win 
them a victory, which would be convenient for their 
personal interests and private ambitions. No mis- 
fortune has happened in the war which I did not pre- 
dict." 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

The strength of the senatorial party lay in Pom- 
pey's popularity in the East. A halo was 
Btill supposed to hang about him as the cre- 
ator of the Eastern Euipire, and so long as he was 
alive and at liberty there was always a possibility 
that he might collect a new army. To overtake him, 
to reason with him, and, if reason failed, to prevent 
him by force from involving himself and the State in 
fresh difficulties, was Csesar's first object. Pompe}', 
it was found, had ridden from the battlefield direct 
to the sea, attended by a handful of horse. He had 
gone on board a grain vessel which carried him to 
Amphipolis. At Amphipolis he had stayed but a 
single night, and had sailed for Mitylene, where he 
had left his wife and his sons. The last accounts 
which the poor lady had heard of him had been such 
as reached Lesbos after the affair at Durazzo. Young 
patricians had brought her word that her husband 
had gained a glorious victory, that he had joined her 
father, Metellus Scipio, and that together they were 
pursuing Caesar with the certainty of overwhelming 
him. Rumor, cruel as usual — 

Had brought smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs. 

Rumor had told Cornelia that Csesar had '' stooped 
his head " before Pompey's " rage." Pompey came 
in person to inform her of the miserable reality. At 
Mitylene Pompey's family were no longer welcome 
guests. They joined him on board his ship to share 



440 Coii ar. 

his fortunes, but what those fortunes were to be was 
all uncertain. Asia had seemed devoted to him. To 
what part of it should he go ? To Cilicia ? to Syria ? 
to Armenia ? To Parthia ? For even Parthia was 
thought of. Unhappily the report of Pharsalia had 
flown before him, and the vane of sentiment had every- 
where veered round. The ^gean islands begged 
him politely not to compromise them by his pres- 
ence. He touched at Rhodes. Lentulus, flying from 
the battlefield, had tried Rhodes before him, and had 
been requested to pass on upon his way. Lentulus 
was said to be gone to Egypt. Polite to Pompey the 
Rhodians were, but perhaps he was generously un- 
willing to involve them in trouble in his behalf. He 
went on to Cilicia, the scene of his old glory in the 
pirate wars. There he had meant to land and take 
refuge either with the Parthians or with one of the 
allied princes. But in Cilicia he heard that Antioch 
had declared for Csesar. Allies and subjects, as far 
as he could learn, were all for Caesar. Egypt, whither 
Lentulus had gone, appeared the only place where he 
could surely calculate on being welcome. Ptolemy 
the Piper, the occasion of so much scandal, was no 
longer living, but he owed the recovery of his throne 
to Pompey. Gabinius had left a few thousand of 
Pompey 's old soldiers at Alexandria to protect him 
against his subjects. These men had married Egyp- 
tian wives and had adopted Egyptian habits, but they 
could not have forgotten their old general. They 
were acting as guards at present to Ptolemy's four 
children, two girls, Cleopatra and Arsinoe, and two 
boys, each called Ptolemy. The father hal be- 
queathed the crown to the two elder ones, Cleopatra, 
who was turned sixteen, and a brother two years 



Pompey flies to Egypt, 441 

younger. Here at least, among these young princes 
and their guardians, who had been their father's 
friends, their father's greatest benefactor might count 
with confidence on finding hospitality. 

For Egypt, therefore, Pompey sailed, taking his 
family along with him. He had collected a few ships 
and 2,000 miscellaneous followers, and with them he 
arrived off Pelusium, the modern Damietta. His for- 
lorn condition was a punishment sufficiently terrible 
for the vanity which had flung his country into war. 
But that it had been his own doing the letters of 
Cicero prove with painful clearness ; and though he 
had partially seen his error at Capua, and would then 
haitt possibly drawn back, the passions and hopes 
Avhich he had excited had become too strong for him 
to contend against. From the day of his flight from 
Italy he had been as a leaf whirled upon a winter tor- 
rent. Plain enough it had long been to him that he 
would not be able to govern the wild forces of a re- 
action which, if it had prevailed, would have brought 
back a more cruel tyranny than Sylla's. He was now 
flung as a waif on the shore of a foreign land ; and if 
Providence on each occasion proportioned the penal- 
ties of misdoing to the magnitude of the fault, it might 
have been considered that adequate retribution had 
been inflicted on him. But the consequences of the 
actions of men live when the actions are themselves 
forgotten, and come to light without regard to the fit- 
ness of the moment. The Senators of Rome were 
responsible for the exactions which Ptolemj^ Auletes 
had been compelled to wring out of his subjects. 
Pompey himself had entertained and supported Iiira 
m Rome when he was driven from his throne, and 
had connived at the murder of the Alexandrians who 



4:42 Coesar. 

had been sent to remonstrate against his restoration. 
It was by Pompey that be bad been forced again upon 
bis miserable subjects, and bad been compelled to 
grind them witb fresh extortions. It was not un- 
natural under these circumstances that the Egyptians 
were eager to free themselves from a subjection which 
bore more heavily on them than annexation to the 
Empire. A national party had been formed on 
Ptolemy's death to take advantage of the minority 
of his children. Cleopatra had been expelled. The 
Alexandrian citizens kept her brother in their hands, 
and were now ruling in his name ; the demoralized 
Koman garrison had been seduced into supporting 
them, and they had an army lying at the time at^e- 
lusium, to guard against Cleopatra and her friends. 

Of all this Pompey knew nothing. When he ar- 
rived off the port he learnt that the young king with 
a body of troops was in the neighborhood, and he 
sent on shore to ask permission to land. The Egyp- 
tians had already heard of Pharsalia. Civil war among 
the Romans was an opportunity for them to assert 
iheir independence, or to secure their liberties by 
taking the side which seemed most likely to be suc- 
cessful. Lentulus had already arrived, and had been 
imprisoned — a not unnatural return for the murder 
of Dion and his fellow-citizens. Pompey, whose 
name more than that of any other Roman was iden- 
tified with their sufferings, was now placing himself 
spontaneously in their hands. Why, by sparing him, 
should they neglect the opportunity of avenging their 
own wrongs, and of earning, as they might suppose 
that they would, the lasting gratitude of Csesar? 
The Roman garrison had no feeling for their once 
glorious commander. "In calamity," Csesar observes, 



Death of Pomp ey. 443 

** friends easily become foes." The guardians of the 
young king sent a smooth answer, bidding Pompey 
welcome. The water being shallow, they dispatched 
Achillas, a prefect in the king's army, and Septimius, 
a Roman officer, whom Pompey personally knew, with 
a boat to conduct him on shore. His wife and friends 
distrusted the tone of the reception, and begged him 
to wait till he could land with his own guard. Tho 
presence of Septimius gave Pompey confidence. Weak 
men, when in difficulties, fall into a kind of despairing 
fatalism, as if tired of contending longer with adverse 
fortune. Pompey stepped into the boat, and when 
out of arrow-shot from the ship was murdered under 
his wife's eyes. His head was cut off and carried 
away. Plis body was left lying on the sands. A 
man who had been once his slave, and had been set 
free by him, gathered a few sticks and burnt it there; 
and thus the last rites were bestowed upon one whom, 
a few months before, Ccesar himself would have been 
content to acknowledge as his superior. 

So ended Pompey the Great. History has dealt 
tenderly with him on account of his misfortunes, and 
has not refused him deserved admiration for qualities 
^s rare in his age a.s tliey were truly excellent. His 
capacities as a soldier were not extraordinary. He 
had risen to distinction by his honesty. The pirates 
who had swept the Mediterranean had bought their 
impunity by a tribute paid to senators and governors. 
They were suppressed instantly when a commander 
was sent against them whom they were unable to 
bribe. The conquest of Asia was no less easy to a 
man who could resist temptations to enrich himself. 
The worst enemy of Pompey never charged him with 
50rruption or rapacity. So far as he was Iiimself 



444 Ccesar. 

concerned, the restoration of Ptolemy was gratuitous, 
for he received nothing for it. His private fortune 
when he had the world at his feet was never more 
than moderate ; nor as a politician did his faults ex- 
tend beyond weakness and incompetence. Unfortu- 
nately he had acquired a position by his negative vir- 
tues which was above his natural level, and misled 
him into overrating his capabilities. So long as he 
stood by Csesar he had maintained his honor and 
his authorit}^ He allowed men more cunning than 
himself to play upon his vanity, and Pompey fell — 
fell amidst the ruins of a constitution which had been 
undermined by the villainies of its representatives. 
His end was piteous, but scarcely tragic, for the cause 
to which he was sacrificed was too slightly removed 
from being ignominious. He was no Phoebus Apollo 
sinking into the ocean, surrounded with glor^^ He 
was not even a brilliant m.eteor. He was a weak, 
good man, whom accident had thrust into a place to 
which he was unequal ; and ignorant of himself, and 
unwilling to part with his imaginary greatness, he 
was flung down with careless cruelty by the forces 
which were dividing the world. His friend Lentu- 
lus shared his fate, and was killed a few days later, 
while Pompey 's ashes were still smoking. Two of 
Bibulus's sons, who had accompanied him, were mur- 
dered as well. 

Caesar meanwhile had followed along Pompey's 
track, hoping to overtake him. In Cilicia he heard 
where he was gone; and learning something more 
accurately there of the state of Egypt, he took two 
legions with him, one of which had attended him from 
Pharsalia, and another which he had sent for from 
Acliaia. With these he sailed for Alexandria. To 



Revolt in Alexandria, 445 

gether, so much had they been thinned by hard serv- 
ice, these legions mustered between them little over 
3,000 men. The force was small, but Caesar con- 
sidered that, after Pharsalia, there could be no dan- 
ger for liim anywhere in the Mediterranean. He 
landed without opposition, and was presented on his 
arrival, as a supposed welcome offering, with the 
head of his rival. Politically it would have been 
better far for him to have returned to Rome with 
Pompey as a friend. Nor, if it had been certain that 
Pompey would have refused to be reconciled, were 
services such as this a road to Csesar's favor. The 
Alexandrians speedily found that they were not to 
be rewarded with the desired independence. The 
consular fasces, the emblem of the hated Roman au- 
thorit}^, were carried openly before Cassar when he 
appeared in the streets ; and it was not long before 
mobs began to assemble with cries that Egypt was 
a free country, and that the people would not allow 
their king to be insulted. Evidently there was busi- 
ness to be done in Egypt before Csesar could leave 
it. Delay was specially inconvenient. A prolonged 
absence from Italy would allow faction time to rally 
again. But Ceesar did not look on himself as the 
leader of a party, but as the guardian of Roman in- 
terests, and it was not his habit to leave any neces- 
sary work uncompleted. The Etesian winds, too, had 
set in, which made it difficult for his ^eavy vessels 
to work out of the harbor. Seeing that troubles 
iiaight rise, he sent a message to Mithridates of Per- 
gamus,^ to bring him reinforcements from Syria, 

1 Supposed to have beea a natural son of Mithridates the Great. The 
reason for the special confidence which CjBsar placed in him does not ap- 
pear. The danger at Alexandria, perhaps, did not appear at the momeat 
particularly serious. 



446 Ccesar, 

while he himself at once took the government of 
Egypt into his hands. He forbade the Alexandrians 
to set aside Ptolemy's will, and insisted that the 
sovereignty must be veste-d jointly in Cleopatra and 
her brother as their father had ordered.^ The cries 
of discontent grew bolder. Alexandria was a large, 
populous city, the common receptacle of vagabonds 
from all parts of the Mediterranean. Pirates, thieves, 
political exiles, and outlaws had taken refuge there, 
and had been received into the king's service. With 
the addition of the dissolute legionaries left by Ga- 
binius, they made up 20,000 as dangerous ruffians as 

1 Roman scandal discovered afterwards that Caesar had been fascinated 
by the charms of Cleopatra, and allowed his politics to be influenced by a 
love affair. Roman fashionable society hated Cassar, and any carrion was 
welcome to them which would taint his reputation. Cleopatra herself 
favored the story, and afterwards produced a child, whom she named 
Csesarion. Oppius, Ctesar's most intimate friend, proved that the child 
could not have been his — of course, therefore, that the intrigue was a 
fable; and the boy was afterwards put to death by Augustus as an impostor. 
No one claims immaculate virtue for Cfesar. An amour with Cleopatra 
may have been an accident of his presence in Alexandria. But to suppose 
that such a person as Csesar, with the concerns of the world upon his 
hands, would have allowed his public action to be governed by a connec- 
tion with a loose girl of sixteen is to make too large a demand upon human 
credulity; nor is it likely that, in a situation of so much danger and dif- 
ficult}'- as that in which he found himself, he would have added to his 
embarrassments by indulging in an intrigue. The report proves nothing, 
for whether true or false it was alike certain to arise. The salons of Rome, 
like the salons of London and Paris, took their revenge on greatness b;y 
soiling it with filth ; and happily Suetonius, the chief authority for the 
scandal, couples it with a story which is demonstrably false. He says 
that Caesar made « long expedition with Cleopatra in a barge upon the 
Nile, that he was so fascinated with her that he M'^ished to extend his 
voyage to Ethiopia, and was prevented only by the refusal of his army 
to follow him. The details of Cresar's stay at Alexandria, so minutely 
given by Hirtius, show that there was not a moment when such an ex- 
oedition could have been contemplated. During the greater part of the 
lime he was blockaded in the palace. Immediately after the insurrection 
was put down, he was obliged to hurry off on matters of instant and urgent 
moment. Of the story of Cleopatra's presence in Rome at the time of hij 
murder, more will be said hereafter. 



Revolt in Alexandria* 447 

had ever been gathered into a single city. The more 
respectable citizens had no reason to love the Ro- 
mans. The fate of Cyprus seemed a foreshadowing 
of their own. They too, unless they looked to theni- 
Gelves, would be absorbed in the devouring Empire. 
They had made an end of Pompey, and Csesar had 
shown no gratitude. Caesar himself was now in their 
hands. Till the wind changed they thought that he 
could not escape, and they were tempted, naturally 
enough, to use the chance which fate had given 
them. 

Pothinus, a palace eunuch and one of young Ptol- 
emy's guardians, sent secretly for the troops at Pe- 
lusium, and gave the command of them to Achillas, 
the officer who had murdered Pompey. The city 
rose when they came in, and Caesar found himself 
blockaded in the palace and the part of the city which 
joined the outer harbor. The situation was irritating 
from its absurdity, but more or less it was really 
dangerous. The Egyptian fleet which had been sent 
to Greece in aid of Pompey had come back, and was 
in the inner basin. It outnumbered Caesar's, and 
the Alexandrians were the best seamen in the Med- 
iterranean. If they came out, they might cut his 
communications. Without hesitation he set fire to 
the docks ; burnt or disabled the greater part of the 
^hips ; seized the Pharos and the mole which con- 
nected it with the town ; fortified the palace and the 
line of houses occupied by his troops ; and in this 
position he remained for several weeks, defending 
himself against the whole power of Egypt. Of the 
lime in which legend describes him as abandoned to 
his love for Cleopatra, there was hardly an hour of 
either day or night in which he was not fighting for 



448 Ccesar. 

bis very life. The Alexandrians were ingenioas and 
indefatigable. They punTped the sea into the con- 
duits which supplied his quarters with water, for a 
moment it seemed with fatal effect. Fresh water 
was happily found by sinking wells. They made a 
new fleet ; old vessels on the stocks were launched, 
others were brought down from the canals on the 
river. They made oars and spars out of the benches 
and tables of the professors' lecture rooms. With 
these they made desperate attempts to retake the 
mole. Once with a sudden rush they carried a ship, 
in which Caesar was present in person, and he was 
obliged to swim, for his life.^ Still he held on, keep- 
ing up his men's spirits, and knowing that relief must 
arrive in time. He was never greater than in un- 
looked-for difficulties. He never rested. He was al- 
ways inventing some new contrivance. He could 
have retired from the place with no serious loss. He 
could have taken to his ships and forced his ^ifay to 
sea in spite of the winds and the Alexandrians. But 
he felt that to fly from such an enemy would dis- 
honor the Roman name, and he would not entertain 
the thought of it. 

The Egyptians made desperate efforts to close the 
harbor. Finding that they could neither capture the 
Pharos nor make an impression on Caesar's lines, they 
affected to desire peace. Caesar had kept young 
Ptolemy with him as a security. They petitioned 
that he should be given up to them, promising on 
compliance to discontinue their assaults. Csesar did 
not believe them. But the boy was of no use to 

- Legend is more absurd than usual over this incident. It pretends 
that he swani with one hand, and carried his Commentaries, holding 
them above water, with tJve other. As if a general would take his MSS. 
with him into a hot action ! 



Arrival of Mithridates. 449 

lim, the army wished him gone, for they thought 
Lhii treacherous, and his presence would 
not strengthen the enemy. Caesar, says 
Hirtius, considered that it would be more respecta- 
ble to be fighting with a king than with a gang of 
ruffians. Young Ptolemy was released, and joined 
his countrymen, and the war went on more fiercely 
than before. Pompey's murderers were brought to 
justice in the course of it. Pothinus fell into Cae- 
sar's hands, and was executed. Ganymede, another 
eunuch, assassinated Achillas, and took his place as 
commander-in-chief. Reinforcements began to come 
in. Mithridates had not yet been heard of ; but 
Domitius Calvinus, who had been left in charge of 
Asia Minor, and to whom Csesar had also sent, had 
dispatched two legions to him. One arrived by sea 
at Alexandria, and was brought in with some diffi- 
culty. The other was sent by land, and did not 
arrive in time to be of service. There was a singular 
irony in Ceesar being left to struggle for months with 
a set of miscreants, but the trial came to an end at 
last. Mithridates, skilful, active, and faithful, had 
raised a force with extraordinary rapidity in Cilicia 
and on the Euphrates. He had marched swiftly 
through Syria ; and in the beginning of the new year 
Caasar heard the welcome news that he had reached 
Pelusium, and had taken it by storm. Not delaying 
for a day, Mithridates had gone up the bank of the 
Nile to Cairo. A division of the Egyptian army lay 
opposite to him, in the face of whom he did not think 
it prudent to attempt to cross, and from thence he 
sent word of his position to Caesar. The news reached 
Ccesar and the Alexandrians at the same moment. 
The Alexandrians hi-ul the easicvst access to the scene. 



450 Coesar. 

Tliey had merely to ascend the river in their boats. 
Caesar was obliged to go round by sea to Peiusium, 
and to follow the course which Mithridates had taken 
himself. Rapidity of movement made up the dif- 
ference. Taking with him such cohorts as could be 
spared from his lines, Csssar had joined Mithiidaiea 
before the Alexandrians had arrived. Together they 
forced the passage ; and Ptolemy came only for his 
camp to be stormed, his army to be cut to pieces, and" 
himself to be drowned in the Nile, and so end his 
brief and miserable life. 

Alexandria immediately capitulated. Arsinoe, the 
youngest sister, was sent to Rome. Cleopatra and 
her surviving brother were made joint sovereigns, and 
Roman rumor, glad to represent Caesar's actions in 
monstrous characters, insisted in after years that they 
were married. The absence of contemporary author- 
ity for the story precludes also the possibility of de- 
nying it. Two legions were left in Egypt to protect 
them if they were faithful, or to coerce them if they 
misconducted themselves. The Alexandrian episode 
was over, and Caesar sailed for Syria. His long de- 
tention over a complication so insignificant had been 
unfortunate in many ways. Scipio and Cato, with 
the other fugitives from Pharsalia, had rallied in 
Africa, under the protection of Juba. ItaW was in 
confusion. The popular party, now absolutely in the 
ascendant, were disposed to treat the aristocracy as 
the aristocracy would have treated them had they 
been victorious. The controlling hand was absent ; 
thfc rich, long hated and envied, were in the power of 
the multitude, and wild measures were advocated, 
communistic, socialistic, such as are always heard of 
in reyolutions, meaning in one form or another the 



Fresh Disordei'S. 451 

equfilizatioii of wealth, the division of propert}^ the 
poor taking their turn on the upper crest of fortune 
and the rich at the bottom. The tribunes were out- 
bidding one another in extravagant proposals, while 
Caesar's legions, sent home from Greece, to rest after 
their long service, were enjoying their victory in the 
license which is miscalled liberty. They demanded 
the lands, or rewards in money, which had been 
promised them at the end of the war. Discipline was 
relaxed or abandoned. Their officers were unable, 
perhaps unwilling, to control them. They too re- 
garded the Commonwealth as a spoil which their 
swords had won, and which they were entitled to dis- 
tribute among themselves. 

In Spain, too, a bad feeling had revived. After 
Caesar's departure his generals had oppressed the 
people, and had quarrelled with one another. The 
country was disorganized and disaffected. In Spain, 
as in Egypt, there was a national party still dreaming 
of independence. The smouldering traditions of Ser- 
torius were blown into flame by the continuance of 
the civil war. The proud motley race of Spaniards, 
Italians, Gauls, indigenous mountaineers, Moors from 
Africa, the remnants of the Carthaginian colonies, 
however they might hate one another, yet united in 
resenting an uncertain servitude under the alternate 
ascendency of Roman factions. Spain was ripe for 
revolt. Gaul alone, Caesar's own province, rewarded 
him for the use which he had made of his victory, by 
unswerving loyalty and obedience. 

On his landing in Syria, C^sar found letters press- 
ing for his instant return to Rome. Important per- 
sons were waiting to give him fuller information than 
30uld be safely committed to writing. He would have 



452 Ccesar. 

hastened home at once, but restless spirits had been 
let loose everywhere by the conflict of the Roman 
leaders. Disorder had broken out near at hand. The 
still recent defeat of Crassus had stirred the ambition 
of the Asiatic princes ; and to leave the Eastern f ron* 
tier disturbed was to risk a greater danger to the Em- 
pire than was to be feared from the impatient politics 
of the Roman mob, or the dying convulsions of the 
aristocracy. 

Pharnaces, a legitimate son of Mithridates the 
Great, had been left sovereign of Upper Armenia. 
He had watched the collision between Pompey and 
Cassar with a neutrality which was to plead for him 
with the conqueror, and he had intended to make his 
own advantage out of the quarrels between his father's 
enemies. Deiotarus, tributary king of Lower Arme- 
nia and Colchis, had given some help to Pompey, and 
had sent him men and money ; and on Pompey's de- 
feat, Pharnaces had supposed that he might seize on 
Deiotarus's territories without fear of Caesar's resent- 
ment. Deiotarus had applied to Domitius Calvinus 
for assistance ; which Calvinus, weakened as he was 
by the dispatch of two of his legions to Egypt, had 
been imperfectly able to give. Pharnaces had ad- 
vanced into Cappadocia. When Calvinus ordered 
him to retire, he had replied by sending presents, 
which had hitherto proved so effective with Roman 
proconsuls, and by an equivocating profession of readi- 
ness to abide by Caesar's decision. Pharnaces came 
of a dangerous race. Csesar's lieutenant was afraid 
that, if he hesitated, the son of Mithridates might be- 
come as troublesome as his father had been. He re- 
fused the presents. Disregarding his weakness, he 
sent a peremptory command to Pharnaces to fall back 



Pharnaces, 463 

within his own frontiers, and advanced to compel him 
if he refused. In times of excitement the minds of 
men are electric, and news travel with telegraphic 
rapidity if not with telegraphic accuracy. Pharnaces 
•heard that Ceesar was shut up in Alexandria, and was 
in a position of extreuie danger, that he had sent for 
all his Asiatic legions, and that Calvin us had himself 
been summoned to his assistance. Thus he thought 
that he might safely postpone compliance till the Ro- 
man army was gone, and he had the country to him- 
Belf. The reports from Egypt were so unfavorable, 
that, although as yet he had received no positive or- 
ders, Calvinus was in daily expectation that he would 
be obliged to go. It would be unsafe, he thought, to 
leave an insolent barbarian unchastised. He had 
learnt in Caesar's school to strike quickly. He had 
not learnt the comparison between means and ends, 
without which celerity is imprudence. He had but 
one legion left ; but he had a respectable number of 
Asiatic auxiliaries, and with them he ventured to at- 
tack Pharnaces in an intricate position. His Asiatics 
deserted. The legion behaved admirably ; but in the 
face of overwhelming numbers, it could do no more 
than cut its way to security. Pharnaces at once re- 
claimed his father's kingdom, and overran Pontus, 
killing, mutilating, or imprisoning every Roman that 
he encountered ; and in this condition Caesar found 
Asia Minor on his coming to Syria. 

It was not in Caesar's character to leave a Roman 
province behind him in the hands of an invader, for 
his own political interests. He saw that he must 
punish Pharnaces before he returned to Rome, and 
he immediately addressed liimself to the work. He 
made a hasty progress through the Syrian towns, 



454 Ocesar. 

hearing complaints and distributing rewards and 
promotions. The allied chiefs came to him from the 
borders of the province to pay their respects. He 
received them graciously, and dismissed them pleased 
and satisfied. After a iew days spent thus, he sailed, 
for Cilicia, held a council at Tarsus, and then crossed 
the Taurus, and went by forced marches through 
Cappadocia to Pontus. He received a legion from 
Deiotarus which had been organized m Roman fash- 
ion. He sent to Calvinus to meet him with the sur- 
vivors of his lost battle ; and when they arrived, he 
reviewed the force which was at his disposition. It 
was not satisfactory. He had brought a veteran 
legion with him from Egypt, but it was reduced to a 
thousand strong. He had another which he had 
taken up in Syria ; but even this did not raise his 
army to a point which could assure him of success. 
But time pressed, and skill might compensate for de- 
fective numbers. 

Pharnaces, hearing that Caesar was at hand, prom- 
ised submission. ylle sent Cagsar a golden crown, in 
anticipation perhaps that he was about to make him- 
self king. He pleaded his desertion of Pomp6y as a 
set-off against his faults. Caesar answered that he 
would accept the submission, if it were sincere ; but 
Pharnaces must not suppose that good offices to him- 
self could atone for injuries to the Empire.^ The 
provinces which he had invaded must be instantly 
evacuated ; his Roman prisoners must be released, 
and their property must be restored to them. 

Pharnaces was a politician, and knew enough of 
Caesar's circumstances to mislead him. The state of 

1 " Neque provinciarum injurias condonari iis posse qui fuissent in M 
officiosi." — De Beilo AlexandHno, 70. 



Defeat of Pharnaces. 455 

Rome required Caesar's presence. A campaign in 
Asia would occupy more time than he could alford, 
and Pharnaces calculated that he must be gone in a 
few daj^s or weeks. The victory over Calvinus had 
strengthened his ambition of emulating his father. 
He delayed his answer, shifted from place to place, 
and tried to protract the correspondence till Ccesar's 
impatience to be gone should bring him to agree to a 
compromise. 

Caisar cut short negotiations. Pharnaces was at 
Zela, a town in the midst of mountains behind Trebi- 
zond, and the scene of a great victory which had been 
won by Mithridates over the Romans. Caesar defied 
auguries. He seized a position at night on the brow 
of a hill directly opposite to the Armenian camp, and 
divided from it by a narrow valley. As soon as day 
broke the legions were busy intrenching with their 
spades and pickaxes. Pharnaces, with the rashness 
which if it fails is madness, and if it succeeds is the 
intuition of genius, decided to fall on them at a mo- 
ment when no sane person could rationally expect an 
attack ; and Cassar could not restrain his astonish- 
ment when he saw the enemy pouring down the steep 
side of the ravine, and breasting the ascent on which 
he stood. It was like the battle of Maubeuge over 
again, wdth the difference that he had here to deal 
with Asiatics, and not with the Nervii. There was 
some confusion while the legions were exchanging 
their digging tools for their arms. When the ex- 
change had been made, there was no longer a battle, 
but a rout. The Armenians were hurled back down 
the hill, and slaughtered in masses at the bottom of 
it. The camp was taken. Pharnaces escaped for 
the moment, and made his way into his own country ; 



456 Ccesar, 

but lie was killed immediately after, and Asia Minor 
was again at peace. 

Csesar, calm as usual, but well satisfied to have 
ended a second awkward business so easily, passed 
quickly down to the Hellespont, and had landed in 
Italy before it was known that he had left Pontus. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

Cicero considered that the Civil War ought to 
have ended with Pharsalia ; and in this 
opinion most reasonable men among the 
conservatives were agreed. They had fought one 
battle ; and it had gone against them. To continue 
the struggle might tear the Empire to pieces, but 
could not retrieve a lost cause; and prudence and 
patriotism alike recommended submission to the ver- 
dict of fortune. It is probable that this would have 
been the result, cOuld Caesar have returned to Italy 
immediatel}^ after his victory. Cicero himself refused 
to participate in further resistance. Cato offered him 
a command at Corcyra, but he declined it with a 
shudder, and went back to Brindisi ; and all but those 
whose consciences forbade them to hope for pardon, 
or who were too proud to ask for it, at first followed 
his example. Scipio, Cato, Labienus, Afranius, Pe- 
treius, were resolute to fight on to the last ; but even 
they had no clear outlook, and they wandered about 
the Mediterranean, uncertain what to do, or whither 
to turn. Time went on, however, and Caesar did not 
appear. Rumor said at one time that he was de- 
stroyed at Alexandria. The defeat of Calvinus by 
Pharnaces was an ascertained fact. Spain was in 
confusion. The legions in Italy were disorganized, 
and society, or the wealthy }\irt of society, threatened 
by the enemies of property, began to call for some 
one to save it. All was not lost. Pompey's best 



458 Cce.sar, 

generals were still living. His sons, Sextus and 
C/n^iis, were brave and able. The fleet was devoted 
to them and to their father's cause,, and Caesar's 
oflicers had failed, in his absence, to raise a naval 
force which could show upon the sea. Africa was a 
convenient rallying point. Since Curio's defeat, King 
Juba had found no one to dis.pute his supremacy, and 
between Juba and the aristocracy who were bent on 
persisting in the war an alliance was easily formed. 
While Caesar was perilling his own interest to remain 
in Asia to crush PhPornaces, Metellus Scipio was offer- 
ing a barbarian chief the whole of Roman Africa as 
the price of his assistance, in a last effort to reverse 
the fortune of Pharsalia. Under these scandalous 
conditions, Scipio, Labienus, Cato, Afranius, Petreius, 
Faustus Sylla the son of the Dictator, Lucius C^sar, 
and the rest of the irreconcilables made Africa their 
new centre of operations. Here they gathered to 
themselves the inheritors of the Syllan traditions, and 
made raids on the Italian coasts and into Sicily and 
Sardinia. Seizing Csesar's officers when they could 
find them, they put them invariably to death without 
remorse. Cicero protested honorably against the em- 
ployment of treacherous savages, even for so sacred a 
cause as the defence of the constitution ; ^ but Cicero 
was denounced as a traitor seeking favor with the 
conqueror, and the desperate work went on. Ceesar's 
long detention in the East gave the confederates time. 
The young Pompeys were strong at sea. From Italy 
there was an easy passage for adventurous disaffec- 
tion. The shadow of a Pompeian Senate sat once 
more, passing resolutions, at Utica ; while Cato Was 
busy organizing an army, and had collected as many 

1 To Atticus, xi. 7. 



Order in Home restored, 459 

as thirteen legions out of the miscellaneous elements 
which drifted iii to him. Cassar had sent orders to 
Cassius Longinus to pass into Africa from Spain, and 
break up these combinations ; but Longinus had been 
at war with his own provincials. He had been driven 
out of the Peninsula, and had lost his own hfe in 
leaving it. Ciesar, like Cicero, had believed that the 
war had ended at Pharsalia. He found that the 
heads of the Hydra had sprouted again, and were 
vomiting the old fire and fury. Little interest could 
it give CjBsar to match his waning years against the 
blinded hatred of his countrymen. Ended the strife 
must be, however, before order could be restored in 
Italy, and wretched men take up again the quiet 
round of industry. Heavy work had to be done in 
Rome. Caesar was consul now — annual consul, with 
no ten years' interval any longer possible. Consul, ■ 
Dictator, whatever name the people gave him, he 
alone held the reins ; he alone was able to hold them. 
Credit had to be restored ; debtors had to be brought 
to recognize their liabilities. Property had fallen in 
value since the Civil Wars, and securities had to be 
freshly estimated. The Senate required reformation ; 
men of fidehty and abiUty were wanted for the pub- 
lic offices. Pompey and Pompey's friends would 
have drowned Italy in blood. Caesar disappointed 
expectation by refusing to punish any one of his 
political opponents. He killed no one. He deprived 
no one of his property. He even protected the money- 
lenders, and made the Jews his constant friends. 
Debts he insisted must be paid, bonds fulfilled, the 
rights of property respected, no matter what wild 
hopes imagination might have indulged in. Some- 
thing only he remitted of the severity of interest, and 



460 Ccesar, 

the poor in the city were allowed their lodgings rent 
free for a year. 

He restored quiet, and gave as much satisfaction as 
circumstances permitted. His real difficulty was 
with the legions, who had come back from Greece. 
They had deserved admirably well, but they were 
unfortunately over-conscious of their merits. 111- 
inteutioned officers had taught them to look for ex- 
travagant rewards. Their expectations had not been 
fulfilled ; and when they supposed that their labors 
were over they received orders to prepare for a cam- 
paign in Africa. Sallust the historian was in com- 
mand at their quarters in Campania. They mu- 
tinied, and almost killed him. He fled to Rome. 
The soldiers of the favored 10th legion pursued him 
to the gates, and demanded speech with Caesar. He 
bade them come to him, and with his usual fearless- 
ness told them to bring their swords. 

The army was Csesar's life. In the army lay the 
future of Rome, if Rome was to have a future. 
Tkere, if anywhere, the national spirit survived. It 
was a trying moment ; but there was a calmness in 
Caesar, a rising from a profound indifference to what 
man or fortune could give or take from him, which 
no extremity could shake. 

The legionaries entered the city, and Caesar di- 
rected them to state their complaints. They spoke 
of their services and their sufferings. They said 
that they had been promised rewards, but their re- 
wards so far had been words, and they asked for their 
discharge. They did not really wish for it. They 
did not expect it. But they supposed thafe Caesar 
could not dispense with them, and that they might 
dictate their own terms. 



Mutiny in the Army, 461 

During the wars in Gaul, Ceesar had been most 
munificent to his soldiers. He had doubled their or- 
dinar}^ pay. He had shared the spoils of his con- 
quests with them. Time and leisure had alone been 
wanting to him to recompense their splendid fidelity 
in the campaigns in Spain and Greece. He had 
treated them as his children ; no coaimander had 
ever been more careful of his soldiers' lives ; when 
addressing the army he had called them always 
" comiiitones," " comrades," " brothers-in-arms." 

The familiar word was now no longer heard from 
him. " You say well, Quirites," ^ he answered ; 
" you have labored hard, and you have suffered 
much ; you desire your discharge — you have it. I 
discharge you who are present. I discharge all who 
have served their time. You shall have your recom- 
pense. It shall never be said of me that I made use 
of you when I was in danger, and was ungrateful to 
you when the peril was past." 

'' Quirites " he had called them ; no longer Roman 
legionaries proud of their achievements, and glory- 
ing in their great commander, but "Quirites" — 
plain citizens. The sight of Caesar, the familiar 
form and voice, the words, every sentence of which 
they knew that he meant, cut them to the heart. 
They were humbled ; they begged to be forgiven. 
They said they would go with him to Africa, or to 
the world's end. He did not at once accept their 
penitence. He told them that lands had been al- 
lotted to every soldier out of the ager puhlicus^ or 
out of his own personal estates. Suetonius says that 
the sections had been carefully taken so as not to 
disturb existing occupants ; and thus it appeared 

1 Citizens. 



462 Ccesar, 

that he had been thinking of them and providing 
for them when they supposed themselves forgotten. 
Money, too, he had ready for each, part in hand, part 
in bonds bearing interest to be redeemed whe'a the 
war should be over. Again, passionately, they im- 
plored to be allowed to continue with him. He re- 
lented, but not entirely. 

"Let all go who wish to go," he said; "I will 
have none serve with me who serve unwillingly." 

" All, all ! " they cried ; " not one of us will leave 
you " — and not one went. The mutiny was the 
greatest peril, perhaps, to which Caesar had ever 
been exposed. No more was said ; but Csesar took 
silent notice of the officers who had encouraged the 
discontented spirit. In common things, Dion Cassius 
says, he was the kindest and most considerate of 
commanders. He passed lightly over small offences ; 
but military rebellion in those who were really re- 
sponsible he never forgave. 

The African business could now be attended to. 
It was ap:ain midwinter. Winter cam- 

B. C. 46. . ^ . . 

paigns were trying, but Csesar had hitherto 
found them answer to him, the enemy had suffered 
more than himself ; while, as long as an opposition 
Senate was sitting across the Mediterranean, intrigue 
and conspiracy made security impossible at home. 
Many a false spirit now fawning at home on CaBsar 
was longing for his destruction. The army with 
which he would have to deal was less respectable 
than that which Pompey had commanded at Du- 
razzo, but it was numerically as strong or stronger. 
Cato, assisted b}^ Labienus, had formed into legions 
sixty thousand Italians. They had a hundred and 
twenty elephants, and African cavalry in uncounted 



Campaign in Africa, 463 

multitudes. Caesar perhaps despised an enemy too 
much wliom he had so often beaten. He sailed from 
Lilyba^um on the 19th of December, with a mere 
handful of men, leaving the rest of his troops to fol- 
low as they could. No rendezvous had been posi- 
tively fixed, for between the weather and the enemy 
it was uncertain where the troops would be able to 
land, and the generals of the different divisions were 
left to their discretion. Caesar on arriving seized and 
fortified a defensible spot at Ruspinum.^ The other 
legions dropped in slowly, and before a third of them 
had arrived the enemy were swarming about the 
camp, while the Pompeys were alert on the water to 
seize stray transports or provision ships. There was 
skirmishing every day in front of CiBsar's lines. 
The Numidian horse surrounded his thin cohorts like 
swarms of hornets. Labienus himself rode up on 
one occiision to a battalion which was standing stilj 
under a shower of arrows, and asked in mockery wh*? 
they were. A soldier of the 10th legion lifted hio 
cap, that his face might be recognized, hurled hu* 
javelin for answer, and brought Labienus's horse to 
the ground. But courage was of no avail in the faco 
of overwhelming numbers. Scipio's army collected, 
faster than Caesar's, and Caesar's young soldiers 
showed some uneasiness in a position so unexpected, 
Caesar, however, was confident and in high spiritc. " 
Roman residents in the African province came grao 
ually in to him, and some African tribes, out of re- 
spect, it was said, for the memory of Marius. A few 
towns declared against the Senate in indignation at 

1 W here the African coast turns south from Cape Bon. 

* " Animum enira altum et erectum pra se gerebat. — Z)e Bello Afri- 



464 Ccemr. 

Scipio's promise that the proyince was to be aban- 
doned to Jaba. Scipio replied witli burning the Ro- 
man country houses and wasting the lands, and still 
killing steadily every friend of Caesar that he could 
lay hands on. Csesar's steady clemency had made no 
difference. The senatorial faction went on as they 
had begun, till at length their ferocity was repaid 
upon them. 

The reports from the interior became unbearable. 
Cassar sent an impatient message to Sicily that, storm 
or calm, the remaining legions must come to him, or 
not a house would be left standing in the province. 
The officers were no longer what they had been. 
The men came, but bringing only their arms and 
tools, without change of clothes and without tents, 
though it was the rainy season. Good-will and good 
hearts, however, made up for other shortcomings 
Deserters dropped in thick from the Senate's army 
King Juba, it appeared, had joined them, and Roman 
pride had been outraged, when Juba had been seen 
taking precedence in the council of war, and Metellus 
Scipio exchanging his imperial purple in the royal 
presence for a plain dress of white. 

The time of clemency was past. Publius Ligarius 
was taken in a skirmish. He had been one of the 
captives at Lerida who had given his word to serve 
no further in the war. He was tried for breaking 
his engagement, and was put to death. Still Scipio's 
army kept the field in full strength, the loss by deser- 
tions being made up by fresh recruits sent from Utica 
by Cato. Csesar's men flinched from facing the ele- 
. April 6, phants, and time was lost while other ele- 
B. c. 46, phants were fetched from Italy, that they 
might handle them and grow familiar with them. 



Battle of Thapsui. 465 

Scipio bad beeji taught caution by tlie fate of Pom- 
pc}', and avoided a battle, and thus three months 
wore away before a decisive impression had been 
made. But the clear dark eyes of the con jueror of 
PharsaUa had taken the measure of the situation and 
comprehended the features of it. By this time he 
had an effective squadron of ships, which had swepb 
off Pompey's cruisers ; and if Scipio shrank from an 
engagement it was possible to force him into it. A 
division of Scipio's troops were in the peninsula of 
Tbapsus.^ If Thapsus was blockaded at sea and be- 
sieged by land, Scipio would be driven to come to its 
relief, and would have to fight in the open country. 
Caesar occupied the neck of the peninsula, and the re- 
sult was what he knew it must be. Scipio and Juba 
came down out of the hills with their united armies. 
Their legions were beginning to form intrenchments, 
and Cffisar was leisurely watching their operations, 
when at the sight of the enemy an irresistible enthu- 
siasm ran through his lines. The cry rose for instant 
attack ; and Csesar, yielding willingly to the universal 
impulse, sprang on his horse and led the charge in 
person. There was no real fighting. The elephants 
which Scipio had placed in front wheeled about, and 
plunged back into the camp trumpeting and roaring. 
The vallum was carried at a rush, and afterwards 
there was less a battle than a massacre. Officers 
and men fled for their lives like frightened antelopes, 
or flung themselves on their for knees mercy. This 
time no mercy was shown. The deliberate cruelty 
with which the war had been carried on had done its 
work at last. The troops were savage, and killed every 
man that they overtook. Caesar tried to check the 

1 Between Carthage and Utica. 



i66 Cosmr, 

carnage, but his efforts were unavailing. The leaders 
escaped for the time by the speed of their 
horses. They scattered with a general pur- 
pose of making for Spain. . LaMenus reached it, but 
few besides him. Afranius and Faustus Sylla with 
a party of cavalry galloped to Utica, which they ex- 
pected to hold till one of the Pompeys could bring 
vessels to take them off. The Utican townspeople 
had from the first shown an inclination for Caesar. 
Neither they nor any other Romans in Africa liked 
the prospect of being passed over to the barbarians. 
Cowards smarting under defeat are always cruel. 
The fugitives from Thapsus found that Utica would 
not be available for their purpose, and in revenge 
they began to massacre the citizens. Cato was still 
in the town. Cato was one of those better natured 
men whom revolution yokes so often with base com- 
panionship. He was shocked at the needless cruelty, 
and bribed the murderous gang to depart. They 
were taken soon afterwards by Caesar's cavalry. 
Afranius and Sylla were brought into the camp as 
prisoners. There was a discussion in the camp as to 
what was to be done with them. Csesar wished to 
be lenient, but the feeling in the legions was too 
utrong. The system of pardons could not be con- 
tinued in the face of hatred so envenomed. The two 
commanders were executed ; Csesar contenting him- 
self with securing Sylla's property for his wife, Pom- 
peia, the great Pompey's daughter. Cato Caesar was 
most anxious to save ; but Cato's enmity was so un- 
governable that he grudged Caesar the honor of for- 
giving him. His animosity had been originally the 
naturally antipathy which a man of narrow under- 
standing instinctively feels for a man of genius. It 



Death of Cato, 467 

had been converted by perpetual disappointment 
into a monomania, and Csesar had become to him 
tlie incarnation of every quality and every principle 
wiiich he most abhorred. Cato was upright, unself- 
ish, incorruptibly pure in deed and word ; but he was 
a fanatic whom no experience could teach, and he ad- 
hered to his convictions with the more tenacity, be- 
cause fortune or the disposition of events so steadily 
declared them to be mistaken. He would have sur- 
rendered Caesar to the Germans as a reward for hav- 
ing driven them back over the Rhine. He was one 
of those who were most eager to impeach him for the 
acts of his consulship, though the acts themselves 
were such as, if they had been done by another, he 
would himself have most warmly approved ; and he 
was tempted by personal dislike to attach himself to 
men whose object was to reimpose upon his country 
a new tyranny of Sylla. His character h{id given 
respectability to a cause which if left to its proper 
defenders would have appeared in its natural base- 
ness, and thus on him rested the responsibility for 
the color of justice in which it was disguised. That 
after all which had passed he should be compelled to 
accept his pardon at Ca3sar's hands was an indignity 
to which he could not submit, and before the con- 
queror could reach Utica he fell upon his sword and 
died. Ultimus Romanorum has been the epitaph 
which posterity has written on the tomb of Cato. 
Nobler Romans than he lived after him ; and a genu- 
ine son of the old Republic Avould never have con- 
sented to surrender an Imperial province to a bar- 
Daiian prince. But at least he was an open enemy. 
He would not, like his nephew Brutus, have pre- 
tended to be Caesar's friend, that he might the more 
conveniently drive a dagger into his side. 



468 CcBsar. 

The rest of the party was broken up. Scipio sailed 
for Spain, but was driven back by foul weather into 
Hippo, where he was taken and killed. His corre- 
spondence was found and taken to CiBsar, who burnt 
it unread, as he had burnt Pompey's. The end of 
Juba and Petreius had a wild splendor" about it. 
They had fled together from Thapsus to Zania, Juba'a 
own principal city, and they were refused admission. 
Disdaining to be taken prisoners, as they knew they 
inevitably would be, they went to a country house in 
the neighborhood belonging to the king. There, after 
a last sumptuous banquet, they agreed to die like war- 
riors by each other's hand. Juba killed Petreius, and 
then ran upon his own sword. 

So the actors in the drama were passing away. Do- 
mi tins, Pompey, Lentulus, Ligarius, Metellus Scipio, 
Afranius, Cato, Petreius, had sunk into bloody 
graves. Labienus had escaped clear from the battle ; 
and knowing that if Csesar himself would pardon him 
Caesar's army never would, he made his way to Spain, 
where one last, desperate hope remained. The mu- 
tinous legions of Cassius Longinus had declared for 
the Senate. Some remnants of Pompey's troops who 
had been dismissed after Lerida had been collected 
•again and joined them ; and these, knowing, as Labi- 
enus knew, that they had sinned beyond forgiveness, 
were prepared to fight to the last and die at bay. 

One memorable scene in the African campaign 
must not be forgotten. While Csesar was in difficul- 
ties at Ruspinum, and was impatiently waiting for his 
legions from Sicily, there arrived a general officer of 
the 10th, named Caius Avienus, who had occupied 
the whole of one of the transports with his personal 
servants, horses, and other conveniences, and had not 



Discipline in Ccesar^s Army, 469 

brought with him a single soldier. Avienus had been 
already privately noted by Caesar as having been con- 
nected with the mutiny in Campania. His own hab- 
its in the field were simple in the extreme, and he 
hated to see his officers self-indulgent. He used the 
opportunity to make an example of him and of one 
or two others at the same time. 

He called his tribunes and centurions together. 
" I could wish," he said, " that certain persons would 
have remembered for themselves parts of their past 
conduct which, though I overlooked them, were 
known to me ; I could wish they would have atoned 
for these faults by special attention to their duties. 
As they have nob chosen to do this, I must make an 
example of them as a warning to others. 

"You, Caius Avienus, instigated soldiers in the 
service of the State to mutiny against their command- 
ers. You oppressed towns which were under your 
charge. Forgetting your duty to the army and to 
me, you filled a vessel with your own establishment 
which was intended for the transport of troops ; and 
at a difficult moment we were thus left, through your 
means, without the men whom we needed. For these 
causes, and as a mark of disgrace, I dismiss you from 
the service, and I order you to leave Africa by the 
first ship which sails. 

" You, Aulus Fonteius [another tribune], have 
been a seditious and a bad officer. I dismiss you 
*lso. 

" You, Titus Salienus, Marcus Tiro, Caius Clusinas, 
..^.enturions, obtained your commissions by favor, not 
by merit. You have shown want of courage in the 
Seld ; your conduct otherwise has been uniformly 
bad ; you have encouraged a mutinous spirit in you? 



470 CcEsar. 

companies. You are unworthy to serve under my 
command. You are dismissed, and will return to 
Italy." 

The five offenders were sent under guard on board 
sliip, each noticeably being allowed a single slave to 
wait upon him, and so were expelled from the coun- 
try. 

This remarkable picture of Caesar's method of en- 
forcing discipline is described by a person who was 
evidently present ; ^ and it may be taken as a correc- 
tion to the vague stories of his severity to these offi- 
cers which are told by Dion Cassius. 

1 De Bello Africano, c. 54. This remarkably interesting: narrativa is 
Attached to Caesar's Commet^aneg. The author is unknown. 



CHAPTER XXy. 

The drift of disaffection into Spain was held at first 
to be of little moment. The battle of Thap- 

.^ B. C. 48. 

BUS, the final breaking up of tlie senatorial 
party, and the deaths of its leaders were supposed 
to have brought an end at last to the divisions which 
had so long convulsed tlie Empire. Rome put on its 
best dress. The people had been on CiiBsar's side 
from the first. Tliose v^ho still nursed in their hearts 
the old animosity were afraid to show it, and the na- 
tion appeared once more united in enthusiasm for the 
conqueror. There were triumphal processions which 
lasted for four days. There were sham fights on ar- 
tificial lakes, bloody gladiator shows, which the Ro- 
man populace looked for as their special delight. 
The rejoicings being over, business began. Ctesar 
was, of course, supreme. He was made Inspector of 
Public Morals, the censorship being deemed inade- 
quate to curb the inordinate extravagance. He was 
named Dictator for ten years, with a right of nomi- 
nating the persons whom the people were to choose 
lov their consuls and praetors. The clubs and cau- 
cuses, the bribery of the tribes, the intimidation, the 
organized bands of voters formed out of the clients of 
the aristocracy, were all at an end. The coui-ts of 
law were purified. No more judges were to be 
bought with money or by fouler temptations. The 
Leges Juliae became a practical reality. One remark- 
able and du]-able reform was undertaken and carried 



472 Ccesar. 

tlirougli amidst the jests of Cicero and the other wits 
of the time — the revision of the Roman calendar. 
The distribution of the year had been governed hith- 
erto by the motions of the moon. The twelve annual 
moons had fixed at twelve the number of the months, 
and the number of days required to bring the lunar 
year into correspondence with tlie solar had been sup- 
plied by irregular intercalations, at the direction of 
the Sacred College. But the Sacred College during 
the last distracted century had neglected their ofSce. 
The lunar year was now sixty-five days in advance of 
the sun. The so-called winter was really the autumn, 
the spring the winter. The summer solstice fell at 
the beginning of the legal September. On Caesar as 
Pontifex Maximus devolved the duty of bringing con- 
fusion into order, and the completeness with which 
the work was accomplished at the first moment of his 
leisure shows that he had found time in the midst of 
his campaigns to think of other things than war or 
politics. Sosigenes, an Alexandrian astronomer, was 
called in to superintend the reform. It is not un- 
likely that he had made acquaintance with Sosigenes 
in Egypt, and had discussed the problem with him in 
the hours during which he is supposed to have amused 
himself "in the arms of Cleopatra." Sosigenes, leav- 
ing the moon altogether, took the sun for the basis of 
the new system. The Alexandrian observers had dis- 
covered that the annual course of the sun was com- 
pleted in 865 days and six hours. The lunar twelve 
was allowed to remain to fix the number of the 
months. The numbers of days in each month were 
adjusted to absorb 365 days. The superfluous hours 
were allowed to accumulate, and every fourth year an 
additional day was to be intercalated. An arbi* 



Reform of the Calendar. 47S 

trary step was required to repair the negligence of the 
past. Sixty-five days had still to be made good. 
The new system, depending wholly on the smi, would 
naturally have commenced with the winter solstice. 
But Caesar so far deferred to usage as to choose to be- 
gin, not with the solstice itself, but with the first new 
moon wdiich followed. It so happened in that year 
that the new moon was eight days after the 

° "^ B.C. 45. 

solstice; and thus the next year started, as 
it continues to start, from the 1st of Januar3\ The 
eight days were added to the sixty-five, and the cur- 
rent year was lengthened by nearly three months. It 
pleased Cicero to mock, as if Caesar, not contented 
with the earth, was making himself the master of the 
heavens. " Lyra," he said, *' was to set according to 
the Edict ; " but the unwise man was not Caesar in 
this instance.^ 

1 In connection with this subject it is worth while to mention another 
change in the division of time, nut introduced by Ciesar, but Avhich came 
into general use about a century after. The weelv of seven days was un- 
known to the Greeks and to the Romans of the Commonwealth, the da\'s of 
the month being counted by the phases of the moon. The seven days 
division was supposed by the Romans to be Egyptian. We know it to 
have been Jewish, and it was probably introduced to the general world oo 
the first spread of Christianity. It was universally adopted at any rate 
after Christianity had been planted in different parts of the Empire, but 
while the Government and the mass of the people were still unconverted to 
the new religion. The week was accepted for its convenience; but while 
accepted it was paganized; and the seven days were allotted to the five 
planets and the sun and moon in the order which still survives among the 
Latin nations, and here in England with a further introduction of Scandi- 
navian mytholog}'. The principle of the distribution was what is popularly 
called " the music of the spheres," and turns on a law of Greek music, 
which is called by Dion Cassius the apficvia 5ta Tea-a-dpiov. Assuming the 
earth to be the centre of the universe, the celestial bodies which have a 
proper movement of their own among the stars were arranged in the order 
^f their apparent periods of revolution — Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, the Sun, 
Venus, Mercury, the Moon. The Jewish Jehovah was identified by the 
Graeco-Romans with Saturn, the oldest of the heathen personal gods. The 
Sabbath was the day supposed to be specially devoted to him. The first 



474 CcBsar. 

While Sosigenes was at work with the calendar, 
Caesar personally again revised the Senate. He ex- 
pelled eyery member who had been guilty of extor- 
tion or corruption ; he supplied the vacancies with 
officers of merit, with distinguished colonists, with 
foreigners, with meritorious citizens, even including 
Gauls, from all parts of the Empire. Time, unfortu- 
nately, had to pass before these new men could take 
their places, but meanwhile he treated the existing 
body with all forms of respect, and took no step on 
any question of public moment till the Senate had de- 
liberated on it. As a fitting close to the war he pro- 
claimed an amnesty to all who had borne arms against 
him. The past was to be forgotten, and all his efforts 
were directed to the regeneration of Roman society. 
.Cicero paints the habits of fashionable life in colors 
which were possibly exaggerated ; but enough re- 
mains of authentic fact to justify the general truth" of 
the picture. Women had forgotten their honor, chil- 
dren their respect for parents. Husbands had mur- 
dered wives, and wives husbands. Parricide and 
incest formed common incidents of domestic Italian 
history; and, as justice had been ordered in the last 
years of the Republic, the most abandoned villain who 
came into court with a handful of gold was assured of 
impunity. Rich men, says Suetonius, were never de- 
terred from crime by a fear of forfeiting their estates ; 

day of the week was therefore given to Saturn. Passing over Jupiter and 
Mars, according to the laws of the kpixovia^ the next day was given to the 
Sun; again passing over two, the next to the Moon, and so on, going round 
again to the rest, till the still existing order came out: — Dies Saturni, dies 
Solis, dies Lunas, dies Martis, dies Mercurii, dies Jovis, and dies Veneris. 
Dion Cassias, See Tlistona Eomana, lib. xxxvii. c. 18. Dion Cassius givea 
a second account of the distribution, depending on the twenty-four hours 
»f the day. But the twenty-four hours being a division purely artificial, 
this explanation is of less interest. 



Dissatisfaction of Cicero, 475 

they had but to leave Italy, and their property was 
secured to them. It was held an extraordinary step 
towards improvement when Caesar abolished the mon- 
strous privilege, and ordered that parricides should 
not only be exiled, but should forfeit everything that 
belonged to tbem, and that minor felons should forfeit 
half their estates. 

Cicero had prophesied so positively that Caesar 
would throw off the mask of clemency when the need 
for it was gone, that he was disappointed to find him 
persevere in the same gentleness, and was impatient 
for revenge to begin. So bitter Cicero was that he 
once told Atticus he could almost wish himself to be 
the object of some cruel prosecution, that the tyrant 
might have the disgrace of it.^ 

He could not deny that " the tyrant " was doing 
what, if Rome was to continue an ordered common- 
wealth, it was essential must be done. Caesar's acts 
were unconstitutional! Yes; but constitutions are 
made for men, not men for constitutions, and Cicero 
had long seen that the constitution was at an end. 
It had died of its own iniquities. He had perceived 
in his better moments that Caesar, and Caesar only, 
could preserve such degrees of freedom as could be 
retained without universal destruction. But he re- 
fused to be comforted. He considered it a disgrace 
to them all that Caesar was ahve.^ Why did not 
somebody kill him? Kill him? And what then? 
On that side too the outlook was not promising. 
News had come that Labienus and young Cnaeus 
Poinpey had united their forces in Spain. The Avhole 
Peninsula was in revolt, and the counter-revolution 

1 To Atticus, X. 12. 

* '* Cum vivere ipsum turpe sit nobis." — To Atticus, xiii. 28. 



476 Ccesar. 

was not impossible after all. He reflected with ter- 
ror on the sarcasms which he had flung on young 
Pompey. He knew him to be a fool and a savage. 
" Hang me," he said, " if I do not prefer an old and 
kind master to trying experiments with a new and 
cruel one. The laugh will be on the other side 
then." 1 

Far had Cicero fallen from his dream of being the 
greatest man in Rome ! Condemned to immortality 
by his genius, yet condemned also to survive in the 
portrait of himself which he has so unconsciously and 
so innocentl}'^ drawn. 

The accounts from Spain were indeed most serious. 
It is the misfortune of men of superior military abil- 
ity that their subordinates are generally failures when 
trusted with independent commands. Accustomed to 
obey implicitly the instructions of their chief, they 
have done what they have been told to do, and their 
virtue has been in never thinking for themselves. 
They succeed, and they forget why they succeed, and 
in part attribute their fortune to their own skill. 
With Alexander's generals, with Csesar's, with Crom- 
well's, even with some of Napoleon's, the story has 
been the same. They have been self-confident, yet 
when thrown upon their own resources they have 
driven back upon a judgment which has been inade- 
quately trained. The mind which guided them is 
absent. The instrument is called on to become self- 
acting, and necessarily acts unwisely. Csesar's lieu- 
tenarts while under his own eye had executed his 

1 "P»ream nisi sollicitus sum, ac malo veterem et clementem dominum 
habere, quam novum et cruclelem experiri. Scis, Cnseus quam sit fatuus. 
Scis, qiiomodo crudelitatem virtutem putet Scis, quam se semper a nobis 
derisam putet. Vereor, ne nos ruatice glaaio velit dvTi.uuKTrjptVai." — To 
Caius Casslus, Ad Fam. xv. 19. 



Ccesar's Officers in Spain. 477 

orders with the precision of a machine. When left 
to their own responsibility they were invariably found 
wanting. Among all his officers there v/as not a man 
of real eminence. Labienus, the ablest of them, had 
but to desert Ca9sar, to commit blunder upon blunder, 
and to ruin the cause to which he attached himself. 
Antony, Lepidus, Trebonius, Calvinus, Gassius Lon- 
ginus, C^uintus Cicero, Sabinus, Decimus Brutus, Va- 
tinius, were trusted with independent authority, only 
to show themselves unfit to use it. Cicero had guessed 
shrewdly that Csesar's greatest difficulties would be- 
gin with his victory. He had not a man who was 
able to govern under him away from his immediate 
eye. 

Cassius Longinus, Trebonius, and Marcus Lepidus 
had been sent to Spain after the battle of Pharsalia. 
They had quarrelled among themselves. Tliey had 
driven the legions into mutiny. The authority of 
Rome had broken down as entirely as when Sertorius 
was defying the Senate ; and Spain had become the 
receptacle of all the active disaffection which re- 
mained in the Empire. Thither had drifted the 
wreck of Scipio's African army. Thither had gath- 
ered the outlaws, pirates, and banditti of Italy and 
the Islands. Thither too had come ffights of Numid- 
ians and Moors in hopes of plunder ; and Pompey's 
sons and Labienus had collected an army as numer- 
ous as that which had been defeated at Thapsiis, and 
composed of materials f<i,r more dangerous and des- 
perate. There were thirteen legions of them in all, 
regularly formed, "with eagles and standards ; two 
whir,h had deserted from Trebonius ; one made out of 
Roman Spanish settlers, or old soldiers of Pompey's 
who had been dismissed at Lerida ; four out of the 



478 Ccesar, 

remnants of the campaign in Africa ; the rest a mis- 
cellaneous combination of the mutinous legions of 
Longinus and outlawed adventurers who knew that 
there was no forgiveness for them, and were ready to 
fight while they could stand. It was the last cast of 
the dice for the old party of the aristocracy. Ap- 
pearances were thrown off. There were no more 
Catos, no more phantom Senates to lend to rebellion 
the pretended dignity of a national cause. The true 
barbarian was there in his natural colors. 

Very reluctantly Caesar found that he must him- 
self grapple with this last convulsion. The sanguin- 
ary obstinacy which no longer proposed any object to 
itself save defiance and revenge, was converting a 
war which at first wore an aspect of a legitimate con- 
stitutional struggle, into a conflict with brigands. 
Clemency had ceased to be possible, and Caesar would 
have gladly left to others the execution in person of 
the sharp surgery which was now necessary. He 
was growing old : fifty-five this summer. His health 
was giving way. For fourteen years he had known 
no rest. That he could have endured so long such a 
strain on mind and body was due only to his extraor- 
dinary abstinence, to the simplicity of his habits, and 
the calmness of temperament which in the most anx- 
ious moments refused- to be agitated. But the work 
was telling at last on his constitution, and he departed 
on his last campaign with confessed unwillingness. 
The future was clouded with uncertainty. A few 
more years of life might enable him to introduce into 
the shattered frame of the Commonwealth some dura- 
ble elements. His death in the existing confusion 
might be as fatal as Alexander's. That some one 
person not liable to removal under the annual wave 



Last Campaign in Spain. 479 

of electoral agitation must preside over the army and 
the administration, had been evident in lucid mo- 
ments even to Cicero. To leave the prize to be con- 
tended for among the military chiefs was to bequeath 
a legacy of civil wars and probable disruption ; to 
compound with the embittered remnants of the aris- 
tocracy who were still in the field would intensify the 
danger ; yet time and peace alone could give oppor- 
tunity for the conditions of a permanent settlement 
to shape themselves. The name of Caesar had be- 
come identified with the stability of the Empire. 
He no doubt foresaw that the only possible chief 
would be found in his own family. Being himself 
childless, he had adopted his sister's grandson, Octa- 
vius, afterwards Augustus, a fatherless boy of seven- 
teen ; and had trained him under his own eye. He 
had discerned qualities doubtless in his nephew which, 
if his own life was extended for a few years longer, 
might enable the boy to become the representative of 
his house and perhaps the heir of his power. In the 
unrecorded intercourse between the uncle and his 
niece's child lies the explanation of the rapidity with 
which the untried Octavius seized the reins when all 
was again chaos, and directed the Commonwealth 
upon the lines which it was to follow during the re- 
maining centuries of Roman power. 

Octavius accompanied Caesar into Spain. They 
travelled in a carriage, having as a third with them 
the general whom C^sar most trusted and liked, and 
whom he had named in his will as one of Octavius's 
guardians, Decimus Brutus — the same officer who 
had commanded his fleet for him at Quiberon and at 
Marseilles, and had now been selected as the future 
governor of Cisalpine Gaul. Once more it was mid- 



480 - Ccesar. 

winter when they left Rome. They travelled swiftly ; 
and Caesar, as usual, himself brought the news thai 
he was coming. But the winter season did not bring 
to him its usual advantages, for the whole Peninsula 
had revolted, and Pompey and Labienus were able to 
shelter their troops in the towns, while Caesar was 
obliged to keep the field. Attempts here and there 
to capture detached positions led to no results. On 
both sides now the war was carried on upon the prin- 
ciples wiiich the Senate had adopted from the first. 
Prisoners from the revolted legions were instantly ex- 
ecuted, and Cnseus Pompey murdered the provincials 
whom he suspected of an inclination for Caesar. At- 
tagona was at last taken. Csesar moved on Cordova ; 
and Pompey, fearing that the important cities might 
seek their own security by coming separately to 
terms, found it necessary to risk a battle. 

The scene of the conflict v/hich ended the Civil War 
March 17 ^^'^^ ^^^ plain of Muuda. The day was the 
B. c. 45. ' 27th of March, B. C. 45. Spanish tradition 
places Munda on the Mediterranean, near Gibraltar. 
The real Munda was on the Guadalquivir, so near to 
Cordova that the remains of the beaten army found 
shelter within its walls after the battle. Csesar had 
been so invariably victorious in his engagements in 
the open field that the result might have been thought 
a foregone conclusi(m. Legendary history reported in 
the next generation that the elements had been preg- 
nant with auguries. Images had sweated ; the sky 
had blazed with meteors ; celestial armies, the spirits 
of the past and future, had battled among the con- 
stellations. The signs had been unfavorable to the 
Pompeians ; the eagles of their legions had dropped 
the golden thunderbolts from their talons, spread their 



Battle of Miinda. 481 

wings, and Iiad flown away to Caesar. In reality, 
the eagles had remained in their places till the stand- 
ards fell from the hands of their dead defenders ; 
and the battle Avas one of the most desperate in 
which Csesar had ever been engaged. The num- 
bers were nearly equal — the material on both sides 
equally good. Pompey's army was composed of re- 
volted Roman soldiers. In arms, in discipline, in 
stubborn fierceness, there was no difference. The 
Pompeians had the advantage of the situation, the 
village of Munda, with the hill on which it stood, 
being in the centre of their lines. The Moorish and 
Spanish auxiliaries, of whom there were' large bodies 
on either side, stood apart when the legions closed ; 
they having no further interest in the matter than in 
siding with the conqueror, w^hen fortune had decided 
who the conqueror was to be. There were no ma- 
noeuvres ; no scientific evolutions. The Pompeians 
knew that there was no hope for them' if they were 
defeated. Ccesar's men, weary and savage at the 
protraction of the war, were determined to make a 
last end of it; and 'the two armies fought hand to 
hcmd with their short swords, with set teeth and 
pressed lips, opened only with a sharp cry as an en- 
emy fell dead. So equal was the struggle, so doubt- 
ful at one moment the issue of it, that Caesar himself 
sprang from his horse, seized a standard, and rallied 
a wavering legion. It seemed as if the men meant 
all to stand and kill or be killed as long as daylight 
lasted. The ill fate of Labienus decided the victory. 
He had seen, as he supposed, some movement which 
alarmed him among Caesar's Moorish auxiliaries, and 
had galloped conspicuously across the field to lead a 
ai vision to check them. A shout rose, " He flies -^ 

81 



482 Ccesar. 

he flies ! " A panic ran along the Pompeian lines. 
They gave way, and Cassar's legions forced a road 
between their ranks. One wing broke off, and made 
for Cordova ; the rest plunged wildly within the ditch 
and walls of Munda, the avenging sword smiting 

behind into the huddled mass of fugitives. 

Scarcely a prisoner was taken. Thirty thou- 
sand fell on the field, among them three thousand Ro- 
man knights, the last remains of the haughty youths 
who had threatened Caesar with their swords in the 
Senate-house, and had hacked Clodius's mob in the 
Forum. Among them was slain Labienus — his de- 
sertion of his general, his insults and his cruelties to 
his comrades, expiated at last in his own blood. At- 
tius Varus was killed also, who had been with Juba 
when he destroyed Curio. The tragedy was being 
knitted up in the deaths of the last actors in it. The 
eagles of the thirteen legions were all taken. The 
two Pompeys escaped on their horses, Sextus disap- 
pearing in the mountains of Granada or the Sierra 
Morena ; Cnseus flying for Gibraltar, where he hoped 
to find a friendly squadron. 

Munda was at once blockaded, the inclosing wall 
— savage evidence of the temper of the conquerors — 
being built of dead bodies pinned together with 
lances, and on the top of it a fringe of heads on 
swords's points with the faces turned towards the 
town. A sally was attempted at midnight, and 
failed. The desperate wretches then fought among 
themselves, till at length the place was surrendered, 
and fourteen thousand of those who still survived 
were taken, and spared. Their comrades, who had 
made their way into Cordova, were less fortunate. 
When the result of the battle was known, the lead* 



End of the Civil War. 483 

ing citizen, who had headed the revolt against'Csesar, 
gathered all that belonged to him into a lieap, poured 
turpentine over it, and, after a last feast with his 
famil}^, burnt himself, his house, his children, and 
servants. In the midst of the tumult the walls were 
Btormed. Cordova was given up to plunder and mas- 
sacre, and twenty-two thousand miserable people — 
most of them, it may be hoped, the fugitives frojn 
Munda — were killed. The example sufficed. Every 
town opened its gates, and Spain was once more sub- 
missive. Sextus Pompey successfully concealed him- 
self. Cnseus reached Gibraltar, but to find that most 
of the ships which he looked for had been taken by 
Caesar's fleet. He tried to cross to the African coast, 
but was driven back by bad weather, and search 
parties were instantly on his track. He had been 
wounded ; he had sprained his ankle in his flight. 
Strength and hope were gone. He was carried on a 
litter to a cave on a mountain side, where his pur- 
suers found him, cut off his head, and spared Cicero 
from further anxiety. 

Thus bloodily ended the Civil War, which the 
Senate of Rome had undertaken against Csesar, to 
escape the reforms which were threatened by his sec- 
ond consulship. They had involuntarily rendered 
their country the best service which they were capa- 
ble of conferring upon it, for the attempts which 
Cassar would have made to amend a system too de- 
cayed to benefit by the process had been rendered 
forever impossible by their 23ersistence. The free 
constitution of the Republic had issued at last in 
elections which were a mocker}^ of representation, in 
courts of law which were an insult to justice, and in 
the conversion of the provinces of the Empire into 



484 Coesar. 

the fee'Uing-grounds of a gluttonous aristocracy. In 
the army alone the Roman character and the Roman 
honor survived. In the Imperator, therefore, as chief 
of the army, the care of the provinces, the direction 
of public policy, the sovereign authority in the last 
appeal, could alone thenceforward reside. The Sen- 
ate might remain as a Council of State ; the magis- 
trates might bear their old names, and administer 
their old functions. But the authority of the execu- 
tive government lay in the loyalty, the moralit}^, and 
the patriotism of the legions to whom the power had 
been transferred. Fortunately for Rome, the change 
came before decay had eaten into the bone, and the 
genius of the Empire had still a refuge from plat- 
form oratory and senatorial wrangling in the hearts 
of her soldiers. 

Ceesar did not immediately return to Italy. Af- 
fairs in Rome were no longer pressing, and, after the 
carelessness and blunders of his lieutenants, the ad- 
ministration of the Peninsula required his personal 
inspection. From open revolts in any part of the 
Roman dominions he had nothing more to fear. The 
last card had been played, and the game of open 
resistance was lost beyond recovery. There might 
be dangers of another kind : dangers from ambitious 
generals, who might hope to take Csesar's place on 
his death ; or dangers from constitutional philoso- 
phers, like Cicero, who had thought from the first 
that the Civil War had been a mistake, " that Caesar 
was but mortal, and that there were many ways in 
which a man might die." A reflection so frankly 
expressed, by so respectable a person, must have oc- 
curred to many others as well as to Cicero ; Caesar 
could not but have foreseen in what resources disap- 



End of the Civil War. 485 

pointed fanaticism or baffled selfishness might seek 
refuge. But of such possibilities he was prepared to 
take his chance ; he did not fly from them, he did 
not seek them ; he took his work as he found it, and 
remained in Spain through the summer, imposing 
fines and allotting rewards, readjusting the taxation, 
and extending the political privileges of the lloman 
colonies. It was not till late in the autumn that he 
again turned his face towards Rome. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

C^SAH came back to Rome to resume the sus- 
pended work of practical reform. His first 

B C. 45. 

care was to remove the fears which the final 
spasm of rebellion had again provoked. He had al- 
ready granted an amnesty. But the Optimates were 
conscious that they had desired and hoped that the 
Pompeys might be victorious in Spain. Csesar in- 
vited the surviving leaders of the party to sue for 
pardon on not unbecoming conditions. Hitherto they 
had kept no faith with him, and on the first show of 
opportunity had relapsed into defiance. His forbear- 
ance had been attributed to want of power rather 
than of will to punish ; when they saw him again 
triumphant, they assumed that the representative of 
the Marian principles would show at last the colors 
of his uncle, and that Rome would again run with 
blood. He knew them all. He knew that they hated 
him, and would continue to hate him ; but he supposed 
that they had recognized the hopelessness and useless- 
ness of further conspiracy. By destroying him they 
would fall only under the rod of less scrupulous con- 
querors ; and therefore he was content that they 
should ask to be forgiven. To show further that the 
past was really to be forgotten, he drew no distinc- 
tion between his enemies and his friends, and he 
recommended impartially for office those whose rank 
or services to the State entitled them to look for pro- 
Tnotion. Thus he pardoned and advanced Caius Cas* 



General Amnesty. 487 

sins, who would have killed- him in Cilicia.^ But 
Cassius had saved Syria from being overrun by the 
Parthians after the death of Crassus ; and the service 
to the State outweighed the injury to himself. So 
he pardoned and advanced Marcus Brutus, his friend 
Servilia's son, who had fought against him at Pharsa- 
lia, and had been saved from death there by his spe- 
cial orders. So he pardoned and protected Cicero ; so 
Marcus Marcellus, who, as consul, had moved that 
he should be recalled from his government, and had 
flogged the citizen of Como, in scorn of the privileges 
which Caesar had granted to the colony. So he par- 
doned also Quintus Ligarius,^ who had betrayed his 
confidence in Africa ; so a hundred others, who now 
submitted, accepted his favors, and bound themselves 
to plot against him no more. To the widows and 
children of those who had fallen in the war he restored 
the estates and honors of their families. Finally, as 
some were still sullen, and refused to sue for a for- 
giveness which might imply an acknowledgment of 
guilt, he renewed the general amnesty of the previous 
year ; and, as a last evidence that his victory was not 
the triumph of democracy, but the consolidation of a 
united Empire, he restored the statues of Sylla and 
Porapey, which had been thrown down in the revo- 
lution, and again dedicated them with a public cere- 
monial. 

Having thus proved that, so far as he was con- 
cerned, he nourished no resentment against the pei> 

1 Apparently when Cassar touched there on his way to Egypt, after 
Pharsalia. C'icqto &diys {Philippic n. 11) : "Quid? C. Cassius .... qui 
etiam sine his clarissimis viris, hanc rem in Cilicia ad ostium fluminis 
Cydai confecisset, si ille ad eam ripam quam coustituerat, non ad contra- 
riam, navi appulisset." 

2 To be distinguished from Publius Ligar'us, who had been put to death 
before Thapsus. 



488 Ccesar, 

sons of the Optimates, or against their p inciples, so 
far as they were consistent with the future welfare of 
the Roman State, Caesar set himself again to the re- 
organization of the administration. Unfortunately, 
each step that he took was a fresh crime in the eyes 
of men whose pleasant monopoly of power he had 
overthrown. But this was a necessity of the revolu- 
tion. They had fought for their supremacy, and had 
lost the day. 

He increased the number of the Senate to nine 
hundred, filling its ranks from eminent provincials ; 
introducing even barbarian Gauls, and, still worse, 
libertini, the sons of liberated slaves, who had risen 
to distinction by their own merit. The new members 
came in slowly, and it is needless to say were unwill- 
ingly received ; a private handbill was sent round, 
recommending the coldest of greetings to them.^ 

The inferior magistrates were now responsible to 
himself as Dictator. He added to their numbers also, 
and, to check the mischiefs of the annual elections, 
he ordered that they should be chosen for three years. 
He cut short the corn grants, which nursed the city 
mob in idleness ; and from among the impoverished 
citizens he furnished out masses of colonists to repair 
the decay of ancient cities. Corinth rose from its 
ashes under Csesar's care. Eighty thousand Italians 
were settled down on the site of Carthage. As in- 
spector of morals, Csesar inherited in an invigorated 
form the power of the censors. Senators and officials 
who had discredited themselves by dishonesty were 

1 The Gauls were especially obnoxious, and epigrams were circulated to 
hisvlt them: — 

" Gallos Caesar in triumphum ducit, idem in Curiam. 
Galli braccas deposuerunt, latum clavum sumpserunt." 

SoETONics, Vita Julii CcBsaris, 80 



Sumptuary Regulations, 489 

ruthlessl}" degraded. His own private habits and the 
habits of his household were models of frugality. 
He made an effort, in which Augustus afterwards 
imitated him, to check the luxury which was eating 
into the Roman character. He forbade the idle young 
patricians to be carried about by slaves in litters. 
The markets of the world had been ransacked to pro > 
vide dainties for these gentlemen. He appointed in- 
spectors to survey the dealers' stalls, and occasionally 
prohibited dishes were carried off from the dinner- 
table under the eyes of the disappointed guests.^ 
Enemies enough Caesar made by these measures ; but 
it could not be said of him that he allowed indul- 
gences to himself which he interdicted to others. His 
domestic economy was strict and simple, the accounts 
being kept to a sesterce. His frugality was hospit- 
able. He had two tables always, one for his civilian 
friends, another for his officers, who dined in uniform. 
The food was plain, but the best of its kind ; and he 
was not to be played with in such matters. An un- 
lucky baker who supplied his guests with bread of 
worse quality than he furnished for himself was put 
in chains. Against moral offences he was still more 
aevere. He, the supposed example of licentiousness 
with women, executed his favorite freedman for adul- 
tery with a Roman lady. A senator had married a 
woman two days after her divorce from her first hus- 
band ; Csesar pronounced the marriage void. 

Law reforms went on. Caesar appointed a commis- 
sion to examine the huge mass of precedents, reduce 
them to principles, and form a Digest. He called in 
Marcus Varro's help to form libraries in the great 
towns. He encouraged physicians and men of science 

1 Suetonius. 



i90 Qcesar. 

to settle in Rome, by offering them the freedom of 
the city. To maintain the free population of Italy, 
he required the planters and farmers to employ a 
fixed proportion of free laborers on their estates. He 
put an end to the pleasant tours of senators at the 
expense of the provinces ; their proper place was 
Italj^, and he allowed them to go abroad only when 
they were in office or in the service of the governors. 
He formed large engineering plans, a plan to drain 
the Pontine marshes and the Fucine lake, a plan to 
form a new channel for the Tiber, another to improve 
the roads, another to cut the Isthmus of Corinth. 
These were his employments during the few months of 
life which were left to him after the close of the war. 
His health was ^rowins: visibly weaker, but 
ms superhuman energy remamed uniui- 
paired. He was even meditating and was making 
preparation for a last campaign. The authority of 
Rome on the Eastern frontier had not recovered from 
the effects of the destruction of the army of Crassus. 
The Parthians were insolent and aggressive. Caesar 
had determined to go in person to bring them to their 
senses as soon as he could leave Rome. Partly, it 
was said that he felt his life would be safer with the 
troops ; partly, he desired to leave the administration 
free from his overpowering presence, that it might 
learn to go alone; partly and chiefly, he wished to 
spend such time as might remain to him where he 
could do most service to his country. But he was 
growing weary of the thankless burden. He was 
heard often to say that he had lived long enough. 
IMen of high nature do not find the task of governing 
their fellow-creatures particularly delightful. 

The Senate meanwhile was occupied in showing the 



Honors heaped on Ccesar. 491 

sincerity of their conversion by inventing honors for 
their new master, and smothering him with distinc- 
tions since they had failed to defeat him in the field. 
Few recruits had yet joined them, and they were still 
substantially the old body. They voted Caesar the 
name of Liberator. They struck medals for him, in 
which he was described as Pater Patriae, an epithet 
which Cicero had once with quickened pulse heard 
given to himself by Pompey. " Imperator " had been 
a title conferred hitherto by soldiers in the field on a 
successful general. It was now granted to Caesar in 
a special sense, and was made hereditary in his family, 
with the command-in-chief of the army for his life. 
The Senate gave him also the charge of the treasury. 
They made him consul for ten years. Statues were 
to be erected to him in the temples, on the Rostra, 
and in the Capitol, where he was to stand as an eighth 
among the seven Kings of Rome. In the excess of 
their adoration, they desired even to place his image 
in the Temple of Quirinus himself, with an inscription 
\:o him as ©cos dnKT/ros, the invincible God. Golden 
chairs, gilt chariots, triumphal robes were piled one 
upon another with laurelled fasces and laurelled 
wreaths. His birthday was made a perpetual holi- 
day, and the month Quinctilis ^ was renamed, in 
honor of him, July. A temple to Concord was to be 
erected in commemoration of his clemency. His per- 
son was declared sacred, and to injure him by word or 
vleed was to be counted sacrilege. The Fortune of 
Caesar was introduced into the constitutional oath, and 
the Senate took a solemn pledge to maintain his acts 
inviolate. Finally, they arrived at a conclusion that 
he was not a man at all ; no longer Caius Julius, but 
1 The fifth, dating the beginning of the year, in the old style, from March. 



492 Ccesar. 

Divus Julius, a God or the Son of God. A temple 
was to be buiU to Csesar as another Quirinus, and 
Antony was to be his priest. 

Csesar knew the meaning of all this. He must ac- 
cept their flattery and become ridiculous, or he must 
appear to treat with contumely the Senate which 
offered it. The sinister . purpose started occasionally 
into sight. One obsequious senator proposed that 
every woman in Rome should be at his disposition, 
and filthy libels against him were set floating under 
the surface. The object, he perfectly understood, 
" was to draw him into a position more and more in- 
vidious, that he might the sooner perish." ^ The 
praise and the slander of such men were alike in- 
different to him. So far as he was concerned, they 
might call him what they pleased ; God in public, and 
devil in their epigrams, if it so seemed good to them. 
It was difficult for him to know precisely how to act, 
but he declined his divine honors ; and he declined 
the ten years' consulship. Though he was sole consul 
for the year, he took a colleague, and when his col- 
league died on the last day of ofiice, he named an- 
other, that the customary forms might be observed. 
Let him do what he would, malice still misconstrued 
him. Cicero, the most prominent now of his senato- 
rial flatterers, was the sharpest with his satire behind 
the scenes. " Csesar," he said, " had given them so 
active a consul, that there was no sleeping under 
him." 2 

Csesar was more and more weary of it. He knew 
that the Senate hated him ; he knew that they would 
kill him, if they could. All these men whose lips 

- Dion Cassius. 

2 The second consul who had been put in held office but for a few hours. 



Conspiracies forming. 493 

were running over with adulation, were longing to 
drive their daggers into him. He was willing to live, 
if they would let him live ; but, for himself, he had 
ceased to care about it. He disdained to take precau- 
tions against assassination. On his first return from 
Spain, he had been attended by a guard ; but he dis- 
missed it in spite of the remonstrances of his friends, 
and went dail}^ into the Senate-house alone and un- 
armed. He spoke often of his danger with entire 
openness ; but he seemed to think that he had some 
security in the certainty that if he was murdered the 
Civil War would break out again, as if personal ha- 
tred was ever checked by fear of consequences. It 
was something to feel that he had not lived in vain. 
The Gauls were settling into peaceful habits. The 
soil of Gaul was now as well cultivated as Italy. 
Barges loaded with merchandise were passing freely 
along the Rhone and the Sacine, the Loire, the Mo- 
selle, and the Rhine.^ The best of the chiefs were 
made senators of Rome, and the people were happy 
and contented. What he had done for Gaul, he 
might, if he lived, do for Spain, and Africa, and the 
East. But it was the concern of others more than of 
himself. " Better," he said, " to die at once than live 
in perpetual dread of treason." 

But Cassar was aware that conspiracies were being 
Cormed against him; and that he spoke 
Creely of his danger, appears from a speech 
delivered in the middle of the winter by Cicero in 
Caesar's presence. It has been seen that Cicero had 
lately spoken of Caesar's continuance in life as a dis- 
grace to the State. It has been seen, also, that he 
had long thought of assassination as the readiest 

1 Dion Cassius. 



194 Ocesar. 

means of ending it. He asserted afterwards that he 
had not been consulted when the murder was actually 
accomplished; but the perpetrators were assured of 
his approbation, and when Cs3sar was killed he de- 
liberately claimed for himself a share of the guilt, if 
guilt there could be in what he regarded as the most 
glorious achievement in human history .^ It may be 
assumed, therefore, that Cicero's views upon the sub- 
ject had remained unchanged since the beginning of 
the Civil War, and that his sentiments were no secret 
among his intimate friends. 

' Cicero is the second great figure in the history of 
the time. He has obtained the immortality which he 
so much desired, and we are, therefore, entitled and 
obliged to scrutinize his conduct with a niceness which 
would be ungracious and unnecessary in the case of a 
less distinguished man. After Pharsalia he had con- 
cluded that the continuance of the war would be un- 
justifiable. He had put himself in communication 
with Antony and Csesar's friend and secretary Oppius, 
and at their advice he went from Greece to Brindisi, 
to remain there till Csesar's pleasure should be known. 
He was very miserable. He had joined Pompey with 
confessed reluctance, and family quarrels had followed 
on Pompey's defeat. His brother Quintus, whom he 
had drawn away from Caesar, regretted having taken 
his advice. His sons and nephews were equally 
querulous and dissatisfied ; and for himself, he dared 
not appear in the streets of Brindisi, lest Cassar's 
soldiers should insult or injure him. Antony, how- 
ever, encouraged him to hope. Pie assured him that 

1 See the 2d Philippic, passim. In a letter to Decimus Brutus, he says : 
* Quare hortatione tu quidem non eges, si ne ilia quidem in re, quae a te 
gesta est post hominum memoriam maxima, hortatorem desiderasti." Ad 
Fam. xi. 5. 



Speculations of Cicero, 495 

Csosar was well disposed to him, and would not only 
pardon him, but would show him every possible favor,i 
and with these expectations he contiived for a while 
to comfort himself. He had regarded the struggle as 
over, and Caesar's side as completely victorious. But 
gradually the scene seemed to change. Csesar was 
long in returning. The Optimates rallied in Africa, 
and there was again a chance that they might win 
after all. His first thought was always for himself. 
If the constitution survived under Caesar, as he was 
inclined to think that in some shape it would, he had 
expected that a place would be found in it for him.^ 
But how if Caesar himself should not survive ? How 
if he should be killed in Alexandria ? How if he 
should be defeated by Metellus Scipio ? He described 
himself as excruciated with anxiety .^ Through the 
year which followed he wavered from day to day as 
the prospect varied, now cursing his folly for having 
followed the Senate to Greece, now for having de- 
serted them, blaming himself at one time for his in- 
decision, at another for having committed himself to 
either side.* 

Gradually his alarms subsided. The Senate's 
party was finally overthrown. Caesar wrote to him 
affectionately, and allowed him to retain his title as 
Imperator. When it appeared that he had nothing 
personally to fear, he recovered his spirits, and he re- 
covered along with them a hope that the constitution 
might be restored, after all, by other means than war. 
" Caesar could not live forever, and there were many 
ways in which a man might die." 

1 To Attictis, xi. 5-6. * j^d Ccelium, Ad Fam. ii. 16. 

8 To Atticus, xi. 7. 

* See To Atticus, xi. 7-9 ; To Tereniia, Ad Fam. xiv. 12. 



496 Omar, 

Caesar had dined with him in the country, on his 
way home from Spain. He had been as kind as Cic- 
ero could wish, but had avoided politics. When Cee- 
sar went on to Rome, Cicero followed him, resumed 
his place in the Senate, which was then in the full 
fervor of its affected adulation, and took an early op- 
portunity of speaking. Marcus Marcellus had been in 
exile since Pharsalia. The Senate had interceded for 
his pardon, and Caesar had granted it, and granted it 
with a completeness which exceeded expectation. Cic- 
ero rose to thank him in his presence, in terms which 
most certainly did not express his real feelings, what- 
ever may have been the purpose which they concealed. 

"He had long been silent," he said, "not from 
fear, but from grief and diffidence. The time for 
Bilence was past. Thenceforward he intended to 
speak his thoughts freely in his ancient manner. 
Such kindness, such unheard of generosity, such 
moderation in power, such incredible and almost god- 
like wisdom, he felt himself unable to pass over 
without giving expression to his emotions."^ No 
flow of genius, no faculty of speech or writing, could 
adequately describe Cesar's actions, yet on that day 
he had yet achieved a greater glory. Often had 
Cicero thought, and often had said to others, that no 
king or general had ever performed such exploits as 
Csesar. In war, however, officers, soldiers, allies, cir- 
cumstances, fortune, claimed a share in the result ; 
and there were victories greater than could be won 
on the battlefield, where the honor was undivided. 

^ " Tantam enim mansuetudinera, tam inusitatam inauditamque cle- 
mealiam, tantnm in summa potestate reriim omnium modiim, tam denique 
incredibilem sapienfiam ac psene divinam tacitus nullo modo prjeterire 
possum." — Pro Marco Mar cello, 1. 



Speech of Cicero, 497 

" To have conquered yourself," he said, addressing 
Csesar directly, " to have restrained your resentment, 
not only to have restored a distinguished opponent 
to his civil rights, but to have given him more tlian 
he had lost, is a deed which rises you above- human- 
ity, and makes you most like to God. Your wars 
will be spoken of to the end of time in all lands and 
tongues, but in tales of battles we are deafened by 
the shoutings and the blare of trumpets. Justice, 
mercy, moderation, wisdom, we admire even in fic- 
tion, or in persons whom we have never seen ; how 
much more must we admire them in you, who are 
present here before us, and in whose face we read a 
purpose to restore us to such remnants of our liberty 
as have survived the war ! How can we praise, 
how can we love you sufficiently ? B}^ the gods, the 
very walls of this house are eloquent with gratitude. 
.... No conqueror in a civil war was ever so mild 
as you have been. To-day you have surpassed your- 
self. You have overcome victory in giving back the 
spoils to the conquered. By the laws of war we were 
under your feet, to be destroyed if you so willed. 

We live by your goodness Observe, conscript 

fathers, how comprehensive is Caesar's sentence. We 
were in arms against him, how impelled I know not. 
He cannot acquit us of mistake, but he holds us in- 
nocent of crime, for he has given us back Marcellus, 
at your entreaty. Me, of his own free will, he has re- 
stored to myself and to my country. He has brought 
back the most illustrious survivors of the war. You 
see them gathered here in this full assembly. He 
has not regarded them as enemies. He has con- 
cluded that you entered into the conflict with him 

32 



498 Omar. 

rather in ignorance and unfounded fear than from 
any motives of ambition or hostility. 

" For me, I was always for peace. Csesar was for 
peace, so was Marcellus. There were violent men 
among you, whose success Marcellus dreaded. Each 
party had a cause. I will not compare them. I will 
compare rather the victory of the one with the pos- 
sible victory of the other. Caesar's wars ended with 
the last battle. The sword is now sheathed. Those 
whom we have lost fell in the fury of the fight, not 
one by the resentment of the conqueror. Caesar, if 
he could, would bring back to life many who lie 
dead. For the others, we all feared what they might 
do if the day had been theirs. They not only threat- 
ened those that were in arms against them, but those 
who sat quietly at home." 

Cicero then said that he had heard a fear of assas- 
sination expressed by Csesar. By whom, he asked, 
could such an attempt be made ? Not by those 
whom he had forgiven, for none were more attached 
to him. Not by his comrades, for they could not 
be so mad as to conspire against the general to whom 
they owed all that they possessed. Not by his ene- 
mies, for he had no enemies. Those who had been 
his enemies were either dead through their own ob- 
stinacy, or were alive through his generosity. It 
was possible, however, he admitted, that there might 
be some such danger. 

" Be you, therefore," he said, again speaking to 
Caesar, '' be you watchful, and let us be diligent. 
Who is so careless of his own and the common wel- 
fare as to be ignorant that on your preservation his 



Speech of Cicero. 499 

own depends, and that all our lives are bound up in 
yours ? I, as in duty bound, think of you by night 
and day ; I ponder over the accidents of humanity, 
the uncertainty of health, the fraility of our common 
nature, and I grieve to think that the Commonwealth 
which ought to be immortal should hang on the 
breath of a single man. If to these perils be added 
a nefarious conspiracy, to what god can we turn for 
help ? War has laid prostrate our institutions, you 
alone can restore them. The courts of justice need 
to be reconstituted, credit to be recovered, license to 
be repressed, the thinned ranks of the citizens to be 
repaired. The bonds of society are relaxed. In such 
a war, and with such a temper in men's hearts, the 
State must have lost many of its greatest ornaments, 
be the event what it would. These wounds need 
healing, and you alone can heal them. With sor- 
row I have heard you say that you have lived long 
enough. For nature it may be that you have, and 
perhaps for glory. But for your country you have 
not. Put away, I beseech you, this contempt of 
death. Be not wise at our expense. You repeat 
often, I am told, that you do not wish for longer life. 
I believe you mean it ; nor should I blame you, if 
you had only to think of yourself. But by your ac- 
tions you have involved the welfare of each citizen 
and of the whole Commonwealth in your own. Your 
work is unfinished : the foundations are hardly laid, 
and is it for you to be measuring calmly your terra 
of days by your desires ? .... If, Caesar, the result 
of your immortal deeds is to be no more than this, 
that, after defeating your enemies, you are to leave 
the State in the condition in which it now stands, 
your splendid qualities will be more admired thaa 



600 Ccesar, 

honored. It remains for you to rebuild the constitu^ 
tion. Live till this is done. Live till you see your 
country tranquil, and at peace. Then, when your 
last debt is paid, when you have filled the measure of 
your existence to overflowing, then say, if you will, 
that you have had enough of life. Your life is not 
the life which is bounded by the union of your soul 
and body ; your life is that which shall continue fresh 
in the memory of ages to come, which posterity will 
cherish, and eternity itself keep guard over. Much 
has been done which men will admire : much remains 
to be done, which they can praise. They will read 
with wonder of the empires and provinces, of the 
Rhine, the ocean, and the Nile, of battles without 
number, of amazing victories, of countless monuments 
and triumphs ; but unless this Commonwealth be 
wisely reestablished in institutions by you bestowed 
upon us, your name will travel widely over the world, 
but will have no stable habitation ; and those who 
come after us will dispute about you as we have dis- 
puted. Some will extol you to the skies, others will 
find something wanting, and the most important ele- 
ment of all. Remember the tribunal before which 
you will hereafter stand. The ages that are to be 
will try you, with minds, it may be, less prejudiced 
than ours, uninfluenced either by desire to please you 
or by envy of your greatness. 

" Our dissensions have been crushed by the arms, 
and extinguished by the lenity, of the conqueror. 
Let all of us, not the wise only, but every citizen who 
has ordinary sense, be guided by a single desire. Sal- 
vation there can be none for us, Caesar, unless you are 
preserved. Therefore, we exhort you, we beseech 
you to watch over your own safety. You believe 



Speech of Cicero. 601 

that you are threatened by a secret peril. From my 
own lieart I say, and I speak for others as well as 
myself, we will stand as sentries over your safety, 
and we will interpose our own bodies between you 
and any danger which may menace you." ^ 

Such, in compressed form, for necessary brevity, 
but deserving to be studied in its own brilliant lan- 
guage, was the speech delivered by Cicero in the Sen- 
ate in Caesar's presence, within a few weeks of his 
murder. The authenticity of it has been questioned, 
but without result beyond creating a doubt whether 
it was edited and corrected, according to his usual 
habit, by Cicero himself. The external evidence of 
genuineness is as good as for any of his other Ora- 
tions, and the Senate possessed no other speaker 
known to us, to whom, with any probability, so splen- 
did an illustration of Roman eloquence could be as- 
signed. 

Now, therefore, let us turn to the Second Philippic 
delivered in the following summer when the deed 
had been accomplished, which Cicero professed to 
hold in so much abhorrence. Then, fiercely chal- 
lenging for himself a share in the glory of tyranni- 
cide, he exclaimed : — 

" What difference is there between advice before- 
hand and approbation afterwards? What does it 
matter whether I wished it to be done, or rejoiced 
that it was done? Is there a man, save Antony 
and those who were glad to have Caesar reign over 
us, tliat did not wish him to be killed, or that disap- 
proved when he was killed ? All were in fault, for 

1 Pro Marco Marcello, abridged. 



502 Ocesar. 

all the Boni joined in killing him, so far as lay in 
them. Some were not consulted, some wanted cour- 
age, S3me opportunity. All were willing." ^ 

Expressions so vehemently opposite compel us to 
compare them. Was it that Cicero was so carried 
away by the stream of his oratory, that he spoke like 
an actor, under artificial emotion which the occasion 
called for ? Was it that he was deliberately trying 
to persuade Caesar that from the Senate he had noth- 
ing to fear, and so to put him off his guard ? If, as 
he declared, he himself and the Boni, who were list- 
ening to him, desired so unanimously to see Caesar 
killed, how else can his language be interpreted ? 
Cicero stands before the tribunal of posterity, to 
which he was so fond of appealing. In him, too, 
while " there is much to admire," " something may 
be found wanting." 

Meanwhile the Senate went its way, still inventing 
fresh titles and conferring fresh powers. C^sar said 
that these vain distinctions needed limitation, rather 
than increase ; but the flattery had a purpose in it, 
and would not be checked. 

One day a deputation waited on him with the 
proffer of some "new marvel." ^ He was sitting in 
front of the Temple of Venus Genetrix, and when 
the senators approached he neglected to rise to re- 

1 " Non intelligis, si id quod me arguis voluisse interfici Csesarem crimen 
sit, etiam Igetatnra esse morte Csesaris crimen esse '? Quid enim interest 
inter suasorem facti et approbatorem ? Aut quid refert utrum voluerim 
fieri an gaudeam factum ? Ecquis est igitur te excepto et iis qui ilium 
reguare gaudebant, qui illud aut fieri noluerit, aut factum improbarit? 
Omnes enim in culpa. Etenim omnes boni quantum in ipsis fuit Caesarem 
occiderunt. Aliis consilium, aliis animus, aliis occasio defuit. Yoluntai 
aemini." — 2d Philippic, 12. 

3 Dion Cassius. 



The Kingship. 503 

ceive them. Some said that he was moving, but that 
Cornelius Balbus pulled him down. Others said 
that he was unwell. Pontius Aquila, a tribune, had 
shortly before refused to rise to Caesar. The senators 
thought he meant to read them a lesson in return. 
He intended to be king, it seemed ; the constitution 
was gone, another Tarquin was about to seize the 
throne of Republican Rome. 

Csesar was king in fact, and to recognize facts is 
more salutary than to ignore them. An acknowledg- 
ment of Caesar as king might have made the problem 
of reorganization easier than it proved. The army 
had thought of it. He was on the point of starting 
for Parthia, and a prophecy had said that the Par- 
thians could only be conquered by a -king. But the 
Roman people were sensitive about names. Though 
their liberties were restricted for the present, they 
liked to hope that one day the Forum might recover 
its greatness. The Senate, meditating on the insult 
which they had received, concluded that Caesar might 
be tempted, and that if they could bring him to con- 
sent he would lose the people's hearts. They had 
already made him Dictator for life ; they voted next 
that he really should be King, and, not formally per- 
haps, but tentatively, they offered him the crown. 
He was sounded as to whether he would accept it. 
He understood the snare, and refused. What was to 
be done next ? He would soon be gone to the East. 
Rome and its hollow adulations would lie behind him, 
and their one opportunity would be gone also. They 
employed some one to place a diadem on the head of 
his statue which stood upon the Rostra.^ It was 

1 So Dion Cassias states, on what authority we know not. Suetonius 
iays that as Cfesar was returning from the Latin festival some one placed 
% laurel crown on the statue, tied with a white ribbon. 



604 QcBsar. 

done publicly, in the midst of a vast crowd, in Cae- 
sar's presence. Two eager tribunes tore the diadem 
down, and ordered the offender into custody. The 
treachery of the Senate was not the only danger. 
His friends in the army had the same ambition for 
him. A few days later, as he was riding through the 
streets, he was saluted as King by the mob. Caesar 
answered calmly that he was not King, but Caesar, 
and there the matter might have ended ; but the 
tribunes rushed into the crowd to arrest the leaders ; 
a riot followed, for which Caesar blamed them ; they 
complained noisily ; he brought their conduct before 
the Senate, and they were censured and suspended ; 
but suspicion was doing its work, and honest republi- 
can hearts began to heat and kindld»^ 

The kingship assumed a more serious form on the 
15th of February at the Lupercalia — the ancient 
carnival. Caesar was in his chair, in his consular 
purple, wearing a wreath of bay, wrought in gold. 
The honor of the wreath was the only distinction 
which he had accepted from the Senate with pleasure. 
He retained a remnant of youthful vanity, and the 
twisted leaves concealed his baldness. Antony, his 
colleague in the consulship, approached with a tiara, 
and placed it on Caesar's head, saying, '' The people 
give you this by my hand." That Antony had no 
sinister purpose is obvious. He perhaps spoke for 
the army ; ^ or it may be that Csesar himself suggested 
Antony's action, that he might end the agitation of 
so dangerous a subject. He answered in a loud voice 
" that the Romans had no king but God," and ordered 
that the tiara should be taken to the Capitol, and 

1 The fact is certain. Cicero taunted Antony with it in the Senate, io 
the Second Philippic. 



The Conspiracy. 505 

placed on the statue of Jupiter Olympius. The crowd 
burst into an enthusiastic cheer; and an inscription 
on a brass tablet recorded that the Roman people had 
offered Ctesar the crown by the hands of the consul, 
and that Caesar had refused it. 

The question of the kingship was over ; but a vague 
alarm had been created, which answered the purpose 
of the Optimates. Caesar was at their mercy any 
day. They had sworn to maintain all his acts. They 
had sworn, after Cicero's speech, individually and col- 
lectively to defend his life. Caesar, whether he be- 
lieved them sincere or not, had taken them at their 
word, and came daily to the Senate unarmed and 
without a guard. He had a protection in the people. 
If the Optimates killed him without preparation, they 
knew that they would be immediately massacred. 
But an atmosphere of suspicion and uncertainty had 
been successfully generated, of which they determined 
to take immediate advantage. There were no troops 
in the city. Lepidus, Caesar's master of the horse, 
who had been appointed governor of Gaul, was out- 
side the gates, with a few cohorts ; but Lepidus was 
a person of feeble character, and they trusted to be 
able to deal with him. 

Sixty senators, in all, were parties to the immediate 
conspiracy. Of these nine tenths were members of 
the old faction whom Caesar had pardoned, and who, 
of all his acts, resented most that he had been able 
to pardon them. They were the men who had stayed 
at home, like Cicero, from the fields of Thapsus and 
Munda, and had pretended penitence and submission 
that they might take an easier road to rid themselves 
of their enemy. Their motives were the ambition of 
their order and personal hatred of Caesar ; but they 



506 Ccesar, 

persuaded themselves that they were animated by 
patriotism, and as, in their hands, the Republic had 
been a mockery of liberty, so they aimed at restoring 
it by a mock tyrannicide. Their oaths and their pro- 
fessions were nothing to them. If they were entitled 
to kill Csesar, they were entitled equally to deceive 
him. No stronger evidence is needed of the demoral- 
ization of the Roman Senate than the completeness 
with which they were able to disguise from them- 
selves the baseness of their treachery. One man only 
they were able to attract into cooperation who had 
a reputation for honesty, and could be conceived, 
without absurdity, to be animated by a disinterested 
purpose. 

Marcus Brutus was the son of Cato's sister Servilia, 
the friend, and a scandal said the mistress, of Csesar. 
That he was Csesar's son was not too absurd for the 
credulity of Roman drawing-rooms. Brutus himself 
could not have believed in the existence of such a re- 
lation, for he was deeply attached to his mother; and 
although, under the influence of his uncle Cato, he 
had taken the Senate's side in the war, he had ac- 
cepted afterwards not pardon only from Caesar, but 
favors of many kinds, for which he had professed, and 
probably felt, some real gratitude. He had married 
Cato's daughter, Portia, and on Cato's dej^th had pub- 
lished a eulogy upon him. Csesar left him free to 
think and write what he pleased. He had made him 
prsBtor ; he had nominated him to the governorship 
of Macedonia. Brutus was perhaps the only member 
of the senatorial party in whom Csesar felt genuine 
confidence. His known integrity, and Csesar's ac- 
knowledged regard for him, made his accession to the 
conspiracy an object of particular importance. The 



The Conspif^xcy. 507 

name of Brutus would be a guaranty to the people 
of rectitude of intention. Brutus, as the world went, 
.was of more than average honesty. He had swoin 
to be faithful to Csesar as the rest had sworn, and an 
oath with him was not a thing to be emotionalized 
away ; but he was a fanatical republican, a man of 
gioomy habits, given to dreams and omens, and easily 
liable to be influenced by appeals to visionary feel- 
ings. Caius Cassius, his brother-in-law, was employed 
to work upon him. Cassius, too, was praetor that 
year, having been also nominated to ofiice by Caesar. 
He knew Brutus, he knew where and how to move 
him. He reminded him of the great traditions of his 
name. A Brutus had delivered Rome from the Tar- 
quins. The blood of a Brutus was consecrated to 
liberty. This, too, was mockery: Brutus, who ex- 
pelled the Tarquins, put his sons to death, and died 
childless; Marcus Brutus came of good plebeian fam- 
ily, with no glories of tyrannicide about them ; but 
an imaginary genealogy suited well with the spurious 
heroics which veiled the motives of Caesar's mur- 
derers. 

Brutus, once wrought upon, became with Cassius 
the most ardent in the cause which assumed the as- 
pect to him of a sacred duty. Behind them were the 
crowd of senators of the familiar faction, and others 
worse than they, who had not even the excuse of hav- 
ing been partisans of the beaten cause ; men who had 
fought at Caesar's side till the war was over, and be- 
lieved, like Labienus, that to them Caesar owed his 
fortune, and that he alone ought not to reap the har- 
vest. One of these was Trebonius, who had miscon- 
ducted himself in Spain, and was smarting under the 
recollection of his own failures. Trebonius had long 



608 Ccesar, 

before sounded Antony on tlie desirableness of remov- 
ing their chief. Antony, though he remained himself 
true, had unfortunately kept his friend's counsel. 
Trebonius had been named by Caesar for a future con- 
sulship, but a distant reward was too little for him. 
Another and a yet baser traitor was Decimus Brutus, 
whom Caesar valued and trusted beyond all his officers, 
whom he had selected as guardian for Augustus, and 
had noticed, as was seen afterwards, with special 
affection in his will. The services of these men were 
invaluable to the conspirators on account of their in- 
fluence with the army. Decimus Brutus, like Labie- 
nus, had enriched himself in Csesar's campaigns, and 
had amassed near half a million of English money.^ 
It may have been easy to persuade him and Trebonius 
that a grateful Republic would consider no recom- 
pense too large to men who would sacrifice their com- 
mander to their country. To Csesar they could be 
no more than satellites ; the first prizes of the Empire 
would be offered to the choice of the saviours of the 
constitution. 

So composed was this memorable band, to whom 
was to fall the bad distinction of completing the ruin 
of the senatorial rule. Caesar would have spared 
something of it ; enough, perhaps, to have thrown up 
shoots again as soon as he had himself passed away 
in the common course of nature. By combining in a 
focus the most hateful characteristics of the order, by 
revolting the moral instincts of mankind by ingrati- 
tude and treachery, they stripped their cause by their 
own hands of the false glamour which they hoped to 
throw over it. The profligacy and avarice, the cyni* 

1 "Cum ad rerapublicam liberandain accessi, HS. mihi fuit quadringatv- 
U68 amplius." — Decimus Brutus to Cicero, Ad Fam. xi. 1(. 



The Conspiracy, 509 

cal disregard of obligation, which had marked the 
Senate's supremacy for a century, had exhibited 
abundantly their unfitness for the high functions 
which had descejided to them; but custom and natural 
tenderness for a form of government, the past his- 
tory of which had been so glorious, might have con- 
tinued still to shield them from the penalty of their 
iniquities. The murder of C^sar filled the measure 
of their crimes, and gave the last and necessary im- 
pulse to the closing act of the revolution. 

Thus the Ides of March drew near. Caesar was to 
set out in a few days for Parthia. Decimus Brutus 
was going, as governor, to the north of Italy, Lepidus 
to Gaul, Marcus Brutus to Macedonia, and Tre- 
bonius to Asia Minor. Antony, Caesar's colleague in 
the consulship, was to remain in Italy. Dolabella, 
Cicero's son-in-law, was to be consul with him as 
soon as Caesar should have left for the East. The 
foreign appointments were all made for five years, 
and in another week the party would be scattered. 
The time for action had come, if action there was to 
be. Papers were dropped in Brutus's room, bidding 
him awake from his sleep. On the statue of Junius 
Brutus some hot republican wrote " Would that thou 
wast alive ! " The assassination in itself was easy, 
for Csesar would take no precautions. So porten- 
tous an intention could not be kept entirely secret ; 
many friends warned him to beware ; but he dis- 
dained too heartily the worst that his enemies could 
do to him to vex himself with thinking of them, and 
he forbade the subject to be mentioned any more in 
his presence. Portents, prophecies, soothsayings, 
frightful aspects in the sacrifices, natural growths of 
alarm and excitement, were equally vain. " Am I 



^ 510 C(BmT. 

to be frightened," he said, in answer to some report 
of the haruspices, "because a sheep is without a 
heart ? " 

An important meeting of the Senate had been 
called for the Ides (the 15th) of the month. The 
Pontifices, it was whispered, intended to bring on 
again the question of the Kingship before Caesar's de- 
parture. The occasion would be appropriate. The 
Senate-house itself was a convenient scene of opera- 
tions. The conspirators met at supper the evening 
before at Cassius's house. Cicero, to his regret, was 
not invited. The plan was simple, and was rapidly 
arranged. Caesar would attend unarmed. The sena- 
tors not in the secret would be unarmed also. The 
party who intended to act were to provide them- 
selves with poniards, which could be easily concealed 
in their paper boxes. So far all was simple ; but a 
March 14 questiou rose whether Csesar only was to 
B. G.4i. i^g killed, or whether Antony and Lepidus 
were to be dispatched along with him. They decided 
that Caesar's death would be sufficient. To spill blood 
without necessity would mar, it was thought, the sub- 
limity of their exploit. Some of them liked Antony. 
None supposed that either he or Lepidus would be 
dangerous when Csesar was gone. In this resolution 
Cicero thought that they made a fatal mistake ; ^ fine 
emotions were good in their place, in the perorations 
of speeches and such like ; Antony, as Cicero admit- 
ted, had been signally kind to him ; but the killing 
Csesar was a serious business, and his friends should 
have died along with him. It was determined other- 

1 " Vellem Idibus Martiis me ad coenam invitasses. Keliquiarum nibi" 

fuisset." — Ad Cassium, Ad Fam. xii. 4. And again: "Quara vellem ad 

illas pulcherrimas epulas me Idibus Martiis invitasses! Reliquiarum niUi 
haberemus." — Ad Trebonium, Ad Fam. x. 28. 



The Eve of the Murder, 511 

wise. Antony and Lepidiis were not to be touched. 
For the rest, the assassins had mere!}' to be in their 
places in the Senate in good time. When Caesar en- 
tered, Trebonius was to detain Antony in conversa- 
tion at the door. The others were to gather about 
Caesar's chair on pretence of presenting a petition, 
and so could make an end. A gang of gUxdiators 
were to be secreted in the adjoining theatre to be 
ready should any unforeseen difficulty present itself. 

The same evening, the 14th of March, Caesar was 
at a " Last Supper " at the house of Lepidus. The 
conversation turned on death, and on the kind of 
death which was most to be desired. Caesar, who 
was signing papers while the rest were talking, 
looked up and said, '' A sudden one." When great 
men die, imagination insists that all nature shall have 
felt the shock. Strange stories were told in after 
years of the uneasy labors of the elements that night. 

A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, 

The graves did open, and the sheeted dead 

Did squeak and jibber in the Roman streets. 

The armor of Mars, which stood in the hall of the 
Pontifical Palace, crashed down upon the pavement. 
The door of Caesar's room flew open. Calpurnia 
dreamt her husband was murdered, and that she 
saw him ascending into heaven, and received by the 
hand of God.^ In the morning the sacrifices were 
again unfavorable. CcBsar was restless. Some natu- 
ral disorder affected his spirits, and his spirits were 
reacting on his body. Contrary to his usual habit, 
be gave way to depression. He decided, at his wife's 
entreaty, that he would not attend the Senate that 
day. 

^ Dion Cassias, C Julius Ccesar, xliv. 17. 



512 Ccesar. 

The house was full. The conspirators were in 
March 15 their places with their daggers ready. At- 
B. C.44. tendauts came into remote Caesar's chair. 
It was announced tliat he was not coming. Delay 
might be fatal. They conjectured that he already 
suspected something. A day's respite, and all might 
be discovered. His familiar friend whom he trusted 
— - the coincidence is striking ! — was employed to 
betray him. Decimus Brutus, whom it was impossi- 
ble for him to distrust, went to entreat his attend- 
ance, giving reasons to which he knew that Caesar 
would listen, unless the plot had been actually be- 
trayed. It was now eleven in the forenoon. Csesar 
shook off his uneasiness, and rose to go. As he 
crossed the hall, his statue fell, and shivered on the 
stones. Some servant, perhaps, had heard whispers, 
and wished to warn him. As he still passed on, a 
stranger thrust a scroll into his hand, and begged 
him to read it on the spot. It contained a list of the 
conspirators, with a clear account of the plot. He 
supposed it to be a petition, and placed it carelessly 
among his other papers. The fate of the Empire 
hung upon a thread, but the thread was not broken.' 
As Caesar had lived to reconstruct the Roman world, 
so his death was necessary to finish the work. He 
went on to the Curia, and the senators said to them- 
selves that the augurs had foretold his fate, but he 
would not listen ; he was doomed for his " contempt 
of religion." ^ 

Antony, who was in attendance, was detained, as 
had been arranged, by Trebonius. Caesar entered, 
and took his seat. His presence awed men, in spite 
of themselves, and the conspirators had determined 

1 " Spreta religione." — Suetonius. 



Murder of Ccesar. 613 

to act at once, lest they should lose courage to act at 
all. He was familiar and easy of access. They 
gathered round him. He knew them all. There 
was not one from whom he had not a right to expect 
some sort of gratitude, and the moYement e'lggested 
no suspicion. One had a story to tell him ; another 
Bome favor to ask. TuUius Cimber, whom he had 
just made governor of Bithynia, then came close to 
him, with some request which he was unwilling to 
grant. Cimber caught his gown, as if in entreaty, 
and dragged it from his shoulders. Cassius,^ who 
was standing behind, stabbed him in the throat. He 
started up with a cry, and caught Cassius's arm. An- 
other poniard entered his breast, giving a mortal 
wound. He looked round, and seeing not one friendly 
face, but only a ring of daggers pointing at him, he 
drew his gown over his head, gathered the folds about 
him that he might fall decently, and sank down with- 
out uttering another word.^ Cicero was present. 
The feelings with which he watched the scene are 
unrecorded, but may easily be imagined. Waving 
his dagger, dripping with Caesar's blood, Brutus 
shouted to Cicero by name, congratulating him that 
liberty was restored.^ The Senate rose with shrieks 
and confusion, and rushed into the Forum. The 
crowd outside caught the words that Caesar was dead, 

1 Not perhaps Caius Cassius, but another. Suetonius says "alter e 
Cassiis." 

2 So says Suetonius, the best extant authority, who refers to the famous 
words addressed to Brutus onl}' as a legend : ♦ Atque ita tribus et viginti 
plagis confossus est, uno modo ad primum ictum gemitu sine voce edito. 
Etsi tradiderunt quidam Marco Bruto irruenti dixisse koX av el eKeivoy' 
Koi (TV Te'fcvov? " — Julixis C(»sar, 82. 

8 "Cruentum alte extoUens Marcus Brutus pugionem, Ciceronem nomi- 
natim exclamavit atque ei recuperatam libertatem est gratulatus." — /'Ai- 
Uj^ic ii. 12. 



514 Ccesar, 

and scattered to their houses. Antony, guessing that 
those who had killed Caesar would not spare himself, 
hurried off into concealment. The murderers, bleed- 
ing some of them from wounds which they had given 
one another in their eagerness, followed, crying that 
the tyrant was dead, and that Rome was free ; and 
the body of the great Csesar was left alone in the 
house where a few weeks before Cicero told him that 
he was so necessary to his country that every senator 
would die before harm should reach him I 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

The tyrannicides, as the murderers of Caesar called 
themselves, had expected that the Roman mob would 
De caught by the cry of Liberty, and would ji^^ch 15, 
hail them as the deliverers of their country. ^' ^' ^^' 
They found that the people did not respond as they 
had anticipated. The city was stunned. The Forum 
was empty. The gladiators, whom they had secreted 
in the Temple, broke out and plundered the unpro- 
tected booths. A dead and ominous silence prevailed 
everywhere. At length a few citizens collected in 
knots. Brutus spoke, and Cassius spoke. They ex- 
tolled their old constitution. They said that Csesar 
had overthrown it ; that they had slain him, not from 
private hatred or private interest, but to restore the 
liberties of Rome. The audience was dead and cold. 
No answering shouts came back to reassure them. 
The citizens could not forget that these men who 
spoke so fairly had a few days before fawned on Cse- 
sar as the saviour of the Empire, and, as if human 
honors were too little, had voted a temple to him as 
a god. The fire would not kindle. Lepidus came in 
with troops, and occupied the Forum. The conspira- 
vors withdrew into the Capitol, where Cicero and 
others joined them, and the night was passed in 
earnest discussion what next was to be done. They 
had intended to declare that Caesar had been a tyrant, 
to throw his bod}^ into the Tiber, and to confiscate 
his property to the State. They discovered to their 



616 Ccesar, 

consternation that if Caasar was a tryant, all his acts 
would be invalidated. The praetors and tribunes 
held their offices, the governors their provin ^.es, un- 
der Caesar's nomination. If Csesar's acts -were set 
March 16 aside, Decimus Bi utus was not governor of 
r>. 0. 44. North Italy, nor Marcus Brutus of Mace- 
donia ; nor was Dolabella consul, as he had instantly- 
claimed to be on Caesar's death. Their names, and 
the names of many more whom Caesar had promoted, 
would have to be laid before the Comitia, and in the 
doubtful humor of the people they little liked the 
risk. That the dilemma should have been totally 
unforeseen was characteristic of the men and their 
capacity. 

Nor was this the worst. Lands had been allotted 
to Csesar's troops. Many thousands of colonists were 
waiting to depart for Carthage and Corinth and 
other places where settlements had been provided 
for them. These arrangements would equally fall 
through, and it was easy to know what would follow. 
Antony and Lepidus, too, had to be reckoned with. 
Antony, as the surviving consul, was the supreme 
lawful authority in the city ; and Lepidus and his 
,K)ldiers might have a word to say if the body of their 
great commander was flung into the river as the 
corpse of a malefactor. Interest and fear suggested 
more moderate counsels. The conspirators determined 
that Csesar's appointments must stand ; his acts, it 
yeemed, must stand also ; and his remains, therefore, 
must be treated with respecb. Imagination took an- 
other flight. Caesar's death might be regarded as a 
sacrifice, an expiatory offering for the sins of the na- 
tion ; and the divided parties might embrace in virtue 
of the atonement. They agreed to send for Antony, 



Speech of Cicero. 517 

and invite him to assist in saving societ}^ ; and they 
asked Cicero to be their messenger. Cicero, great 
and many as his faults might be, was not a fooL Ho 
declined to go on so absurd a mission. He knew 
Antony too well to dream that he could be impose*! 
on by fantastic illusions. Antony, he said, wcuUl 
promise anything, but if they trusted him, they would 
have reason to repent.^ Others, however, undertook 
the office. Antony agreed to meet them, and the 
next morning the Senate was assembled in the Tem- 
ple of Terra. 

Antony presided as consul, and after a few words 
from him Cicero rose. He disapproved of the course 
which his friends were taking ; he foresaw what must 
come of it ; but he had been overruled, and he made 
the best of what he could not help. He gave a sketch 
of Roman political history. He went back to the 
secession to Mount Aventine. He spoke of the 
Gracchi, of Saturninus^ and Glaucia, of Marius and 
Sylla, of Sertorius and Pompey, of Caesar and the 
still unforgotten Clodius. He described the fate of 
Athens and of other Grecian States into which fac- 
tion had penetrated. If Rome continued divided, the 
conquerors would rule over its ruins ; therefore he 
appealed to the two factions to forget their rivalries 
and to return to peace and concord. But they must 
decide at once, for the signs were already visible of a 
fresh conflict. 

" Caesar is slain," he said. " The Capitol is occu- 
pied by the Optimates, the Forum by soldiers, and 
the people are full of terror. Is violence to be again 
answered by more violence ? These many years we 
have lived less like men than like wild beasts in cy- 

1 Philippic ii. 35. 



518 Ccb^ar. 

cles of recurring revenge. Let us forget tlie past. 
Let us draw a veil over all that has been done, not 
looking too curiously into the acts of any man. 
Much may be said to show that Csesar deserved 
his death, and much against those who have killed 
him. But to raise the question will breed fresh quar- 
rels ; and if we are wise we shall regard the scene 
which we have witnessed as a convulsion of nature 
which is now at an end. Let Caesar's ordinances, let 
CcBsar's appointments be maintained. None such 
must be heard of again. But what is done cannot 
be undone." ^ 

Admirable advice, were it as easy to act on good 
counsel as to give it. The murder of such a man as 
Csesar was not to be so easily smoothed over. But 
the delusive vision seemed for a moment to please. 
The Senate passed an act of oblivion. The agitation 
in the army was quieted when the men heard that 
their lands were secure. But there were two other 
questions which required an answer, and an immedi- 
ate one. Csesar's body, after remaining till evening 
on the floor of the Senate-house, had been carried 
home in the dusk in a litter by three of his servants, 
and was now lying in his palace. If it was not to 
be thrown into the Tiber, what was to be done with 
it ? CiBsar had left a will, which was safe with his 
other papers in the hands of Antony. Was the will 
to be read and recognized ? Though Cicero had ac^- 
vised in the Senate that the discussion whether Caesar 
had deserved death should not be raised, yet it was 
plain to him and to every one that, unless Caesar was 
held guilty of conspiring against the constitution, the 

'^ Abridged from Dion Cassius, who probably gives no more than the 
traaltionary version of Cicero's words. 



Funeral of Ccesar. 619 

murder was and would be regarded as a most exe- 
crable crime. He dreaded the effect of a public fu- 
neral. He feared that the will might contain provi- 
sions which would rouse the passions of the people. 
Though Gaesai was not for various reasons to be pro- 
nounced a tyrant, Cicero advised that he should be 
buried privately, as if his name was under a cloud, 
and that his property should be escheated to the na- 
tion. But the humor of conciliation and the theory 
of " the atoning sacrifice " had caught the Senate. 
Capsar had done great things for his country. It 
would please the army that he should have an honor- 
able sepulture. 

If they had refused, the result would not have been 
greatly different. Sooner or laler, when the stun- 
ning effects of the shock had passed off, the murder 
must have appeared to Rome and Italy in its true 
colors. The Optimates talked of the constitution. 
The constitution in their hands had been a parody 
of liberty. Caesar's political life had been spent in 
wresting from them the powers which they had 
abused. Caesar had punished the oppres- March, 
Bors of the provinces. Caesar had forced the '^^^^^■ 
nobles to give the people a share of the public lands. 
Csesar had opened the doors of citizenship to the 
libertini, the distant colonists, and the provincials. 
It was for this that the Senate hated him. For this 
they had fought against him ; for this they murdered 
him. No Roman had ever served his country better 
m peace or war, and thus he had been rewarded. 

Such thoughts were already working in ter.s of 
thousands of breasts. A feeling of resentment was 
fast rising, with as yet no certain purpose before it. 
In this mood the funeral could not fail to lead to 



520 Ccesar. 

some fierce explosion. For this reason Antony had 
pressed for it, and the Senate had given their con- 
sent. 

The body was brought down to the Forum and 
placed upon the Rostra. The dress had not been 
changed ; the gown, gashed with daggers and soaked 
in blood, was still wrapped about it. The will was 
read first. It reminded the Romans that they had 
been always in Caesar's thoughts, for he had left each 
citizen seventy-five drachmas (nearly ol. of English 
money), and he had left them his gardens on the Ti- 
ber, as a perpetual recreation ground, ^ possession 
which Domitius Ahenobarbus had designed for him- 
self before Pharsalia. He had made Octavius his 
general heir ; among* the second heirs, should Octa- 
vius fail, he had named Decimus Brutus, who had 
betrayed him. A deep movement of emotion passed 
through the crowd when, beside the consideration for 
themselves, they heard from this record, which could 
not lie, a proof of the confidence which had been so 
abused. Antony, after waiting for the passion to 
work, then came forward. 

Cicero had good reason for his fear of Antony. 
He was a loose soldier, careless in his life, ambitious, 
extravagant, little more scrupulous perhaps than any 
average Roman gentleman. But for Csesar his affec- 
tion was genuine. The people were in intense expec- 
tation. He produced the body, all bloody as it had 
fallen, and he bade a herald first read the votes 
which the Senate had freshly passed, heaping those 
extravagant honors upon Cassar which he had not de- 
sired, and the oath which the senators had each per- 
sonally taken to defend him from violence. He then 
spoke — spoke with the natural vehemence of a 



Speech of Antony. 521 

friend, yet saying nothing which was not literally 
true. The services of Caesar neither needed nor per- 
mitted the exaggeration of eloquence. 

He began with the usual encomiums. He spoke 
of Cesar's family, his birth, his early history, his 
personal characteristics, his thrifty private habits, his 
public liberality ; he described him as generous to his 
friends, forbearing with his enemies, without evil in 
himself, and reluctant to believe evil of others. 

" Power in most men," he said, " has brought their 
faults to light. Power in Caesar brought into prom- 
inence his excellences. Prosperity did not make him 
insolent, for it gave him a sphere which corresponded 
to his nature. His first services in Spain deserved a 
triumph ; of his laws I could speak forever. His 
campaigns in Gaul are knowp to you all. The land 
from which the Teutons and Cimbri poured over the 
Alps is now as well ordered as Italy. Caesar would 
have added Germany and Britain to your Empire, 
but his enemies would not have it so. They re- 
garded the Commonwealth as the patrimony of them- 
selves. They brought him home. They went on 
with their usurpations till you yourselves required his 
help. He set you free. He set Spain free. He la- 
bored for peace with Pompey, but Pompey preferred 
to go into Greece, to bring the powers of the East 
upon you, and he perished in his obstinacy. 

" Caesar took no honor to himself for this victor}^. 
He abhorred the necessity of it. He took no revenge. 
He praised those who had been faithful to Pompey, 
and he blamed Pharnaces for deserting him. He was 
sorry for Pompey's death, and he treated his murder- 
ers as they deserved. He settled Egypt and Ar- 
menia. He would have disposed of the Parthians 



622 Cwsar, 

held not fresli seditions recalled him to Italy. He 
quelled those seditions. He restored peace in Africa 
and Spain, and again his one desire was to spare his 
fellow-citizens. There was in him an 'inbred good- 
ness.' ^ He was alwaj^s the same - — never carried 
away by anger, and never spoilt by success. He did 
not retaliate for the past, he never tried by severity 
to secure himself for the future. His effort through 
out was to save all who would allow themselves to be 
saved. He repaired old acts of injustice. He re- 
stored the families of those who had been proscribed 
by Sylla, but he burnt unread the correspondence of 
Pompey and Scipio, that those whom it compromised 
might neither suffer injury nor fear injury. You 
honored him as your father ; you loved him as youL 
benefactor ; you made him chief of the State, not be- 
ing curious of titles, but regarding the most which 
you could give as less than he had deserved at your 
hands. Towards the gods he was High Priest. To 
you he was Consul ; to the army he was Imperator ; 
to the enemies of his country Dictator. In sum he 
was Pater Patrice. And this your father, your Pon- 
tifex, this hero, whose person was declared inviolable, 
lies dead — dead, not by disease or age, not by war 
or visitation of God, but here at home, by conspiracy 
within your own walls, slain in the Senate-house, the 
warrior unarmed, the peacemaker naked to his foes, 
the righteous judge in the seat of judgment. He 
whom no foreign enemy could hurt has been killed 
by his fellow-countrymen — he, who had so often 
shown mercy, by those whom he had spared. Where, 

1 "Ejix</)UTos xP^t^TOT^? are Dion Cassius's words. Antony's language ■was 
differently reported, and perhaps there was no literal record of it. Dion 
Cassi us, however, can hardly have himself composed the version which he 
gives in his history, for he calls the speech as ill-t'ined as it was brilliant. 



Speech of Antony, 523 

Caesar, is your love for mankind? Where is the 
Bacredness of your life? Where are your laws? 
Here 3'ou lie murdered — here in the Forum, through 
which so often you marched in triumph wreathed 
with garlands ; here upon the rostra from which you 
were wont to address your people. Alas for your 
giay hairs dabbled in blood ! alas for this lacerated 
robe in which you were dressed for the sacrifice ! '' ^ 

Antony's words, as he well knew, were a declara- 
tion of irreconcilable war against the murderers and 
their friends. As his impassioned language did its 
work the multitude rose into fury. They cursed the 
conspirators. They cursed the Senate who had sat 
by while the deed was being done. They liad been 
moved to fury by the murder of Clodius. Ten thou- 
sand Clodiuses, had he been all which their imagina- 
tion painted him, could not equal one C^ssar. They 
took on themselves the order of the funeral. They 
surrounded the body, which was reverently raised by 
the officers of the Forum. Part proposed to carry it 
to the Temple of Jupiter, in the Capitol, and to burn 
it under the eyes of the assassins ; part to take it into 
the Senate-house and use the meeting-place of the 
Opti mates a second time as the pyre of the people's 
friend. A few legionaries, perhaps to spare the city 
a general conflagration, advised that it should be con- 
sumed where it lay. The platform was torn up and 
the broken timbers piled into a heap. Chairs and 
benches were thrown on to it, the whole crowd rush- 
ing wildly to add a chip or splinter. Actors flung in 
their dresses, musicians their instruments, soldiers 
their swords. Women added their necklaces and 
scarfs. Mothers brouglit up their children to con- 

1 A"Dridged from Dion Cassius, xliv. 36. 



524 Ocesar. 

tribute toys and playthings. On the pile so composed 
the body of Ctfisar was reduced to ashes. The re- 
mains were collected with affectionate care 

B« C 44 

and deposited in the tomb of the Caesars, 
in the Campus Martius. The crowd, it was observed, 
was composed largely of libertini and of provincials 
whom Cassar had enfranchised. The demonstrations 
of sorrow were most remarkable among the Jews, 
crowds of whom continued for many nights to collect 
and wail in the Forum at the scene of the singular 
ceremony. 

When the people were in such a mood, Rome was 
no place for the conspirators. They scattered over 
the Empire : Decimus Brutus, Marcus Brutus, Cas- 
sius, Cimber, Trebonius, retreated to the provinces 
which Caesar had assigned them, the rest clinging to 
the shelter of their friends. The legions — a striking 
tribute to Roman discipline — remained by their 
eagles, faithful to their immediate duties, and obedi- 
ent to their officers, till it could be seen how events 
would turn. Lepidus joined the army in Gaul; An- 
tony continued in Rome, holding the administration 
in his hands and watching the action of the Senate. 
Ctesar was dead. But Caesar still lived. "It was 
not possible that the grave should hold him." The 
people said that he was a god, and had gone back to 
heaven, where his star had been seen ascending ; ^ his 
spirit remained on earth, and the vain blows of the 
assassins had been but " malicious mockery." " We 
have killed the king," exclaimed Cicero in the bitter- 
ness of his disenchantment, " but the kingdom is with 
Uc. still ; " "we have taken away the tyrant ; the tyr- 

■* " ..n deorum numerum relatua est uon ore modo decerneatium sed et 
persuaeione vulgi." — Suetonius. 



I 



Fruitlessness of the Murder. 525 

anny survives." Caesar had not overthrown the oli- 
garchy ; their own incapacity, their own selfishness, 
their own baseness, had overthrown them. C^sar 
had been but the reluctant instrument of the power 
which metes out to men the inevitable penalties of 
their own misdeeds. They had dreamt that the con- 
stitution was a living force which would revive of it-- 
self as soon as its eneni}^ was gone. They did not 
know that it was dead already, and that they had 
tliemselves destroyed it. The constitution was but 
an agreement by which the Roman people had con- 
sented to abide for their common good. It had ceased 
to be for the common good. The experience of fifty 
miserable years had proved that it meant the suprem- 
acy of the rich, maintained by the bought votes of 
demoralized electors. The soil of Italy, the industry 
and happiness of tens of millions of mankind, from 
the Rhine to the Euphrates, had been the spoil of 
five hundred families and their relatives and depend- 
ents, of men whose occupation was luxury, and whose 
appetites were for monstrous pleasures. The self- 
respect of reasonable men could no longer tolerate 
such a rule in Italy or out of it. In killing Csesar 
the Opti mates had been as foolish as they were treach- 
erous ; for Caesar's efforts had been to reform the con- 
stitution, not to abolish it. The Civil War had risen 
from their dread of his second consulship, which they 
had feared would make an end of their corruptions ; 
and that the constitution should be purged of the 
poison in its veins was the sole condition on which its 
continuance was possible. The obstinacy, the feroc- 
ity, the treachery of the aristocracy, had compelled 
Caesar to crush them ; and the more desperate their 
struggles the more absolute the necessity became. 



526 ^ CdBsar. 

But he alone could have restored as much of popular 
liberty as was consistent with the responsibiUties of 
such a government as tlie Euipire required. In Csesar 
alone were combined the intellect and the power nec- 
essary for such a work ; and they had killed him, and 
in doing so had passed final sentence on thcmseWes. 
Not as realities any more, but as harmless phantoms, 
the forms of the old Republic were henceforth to per- 
sist. In the army only remained the Imperial con- 
sciousness of the honor and duty of Roman citizens. 
To the army, therefore, the rule was transferred. 
The Roman nation had grown as the oak grows, self- 
developed in severe morality, each citizen a law to 
himself, and therefore capable of political freedom in 
an unexampled degree. All organizations destined to 
endure spring from forces inherent in themselves, and 
must grow freely, or they will not grow at all. When 
the tree reaches maturity, decay sets in ; if it be left 
standing, the disintegration of the fibre goes swiftly 
forward ; if the stem is severed from the root, the de- 
stroying power is arrested, and the timber will endure 
a thousand years. So it was with Rome. The con- 
stitution under which the Empire had sprung up was 
poisoned, and was brought to a violent end before it 
had affected materially for evil the masses of the peo- 
ple. The solid structure was preserved — not to 
grow any longer, not to produce a new Camillus or a 
new Regulus, a new Scipio Africanus or a new Tibe- 
rius (jrracchus, but to form an endurable shelter for 
civilized mankind, until a fj-esh, spiritual life was de- 
veloped out of Palestine to remodel the conscience of 
hu manity. 

A gleam of hope opened to Cicero in the summer. 
Octavius, who was in Greece at the time of the 



Odavius and Antony. i>'21 

murder, came to Rome to claim his inheritance. He 
was but eighteen, too young for the burden which 
was thrown upon him ; and being unknown, he had 
the confidence of the legions to win. The army, dis- 
persed over the provinces, had as yet no collective 
purpose. Antony, it is possible, was jealous of him, 
and looked on himself as Ciesar's true representative 
and avenger. Octavius, finding Antony hostile, or 
at least indifferent to his claims, played with the 
Senate with cool foresight till he felt the ground firm 
under his feet. Cicero boasted that he would use 
Octavius to ruin Antony, and would throw him over 
when he had served his purpose. " Cicero will 
learn," Octavius said, when the words were reported 
to him, " that I shall not be played with so easily." 

For a year the confusion lasted ; two of Caesar's 
oflScers, Hirtius and Pausa, were chosen b. c.44- 
consuls by the senatorial party, to please ^^■ 
the legions ; and Antony contended dubiously with 
them and Decimus Brutus for some months in the 
North of Italy. But Antony joined Lepidus, and 
the Gallic legions with judicial fitness brought Cic- 
ero's dreams to the ground. Cicero's friend, Plan- 
cus, who commanded in Normandy and Belgium, at- 
tempted a faint resistance, but was made to yield to 
the resohition of his troops. Octavius and Antony 
came to an understanding ; and Caesar's two gener- 
als, who were true to his memory, and Octavius, who 
was the heir of his name, crossed the Alps, at the 
head of the united army of Gaul, to punish the mur- 
der and restore peace to the world. No resistance 
was possible. Many of the senators, like Cicero, 
though they had borne no part in the assassination, 
had taken the guilt of it upon themselves by the en- 



528 CcBsar, 

thusiasm of their approval. They were all men who 
Jiad sworn fidelity to Csesar, and had been ostenta- 
tious in their profession of devotion to him. It had 
become too plain that from such persons no repent- 
ance was to be looked for. They were impelled by 
a malice or a fanaticism which clemency could not 
touch or reason influence. So long as they lived they 
would still conspire ; and any weapons, either of 
open war or secret treachery, would seem justifiable 
to them in the cause which they regarded as sacred. 
Caesar himself would, no doubt, have again pardoned 
them. Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus were men of 
more common mould. The murderers of Cassar, and 
those who had either instigated them secretly or ap- 
plauded them afterwards, were included in a pro- 
scription list, drawn by retributive justice on the 
model of Sylla's. Such of them as were in Italy 
were immediately killed. Those in the provinces, as 
if with the curse of Cain upon their heads, 
came one by one to miserable ends. Bru-' 
tus and Cassius fought hard and fell at Philippi. In 
three years the tyrannicides of the Ides of March, 
with their aiders and abettors, were all dead, some 
killed in battle, some in prison, some dying by their 
own hand — slain with the daggers with which they 
had stabbed their master. 

Out of the whole party the fate of one only de- 
serves special notice, a man whose splendid talents 
have bought forgiveness for his faults, and have given 
him a place in the small circle of the really great 
whose memory is not allowed to die. 
' After the dispersion of the conspirators which fol- 
lowed Caesar's funeral, Cicero had remained in Rome. 
His timidity seemed to have forsaken him, and he 



Fate of Cicero. 629 

had striven, with an energy which recalled his bright- 
est days, to set the constitution again upon its feet, 
Antony charged him in the Senate with having been 
the contriver of Caesar's death. He replied with in- 
vectives fierce and scurrilous as those which he had 
heaped upon Catiline and Clodius. A time had been 
when he had affected to look on Antony as his pre- 
server. Now there was no imaginable infamy in 
which he did not steep his name. He spoke of the 
murder as the most splendid achievement recorded in 
history, and he regretted only that he had not been 
taken into counsel by the deliverers of their country. 
Antony would not then have been alive to rekindle 
civil discord. When Antony left Rome, Cicero was 
for a few months again the head of the State. He 
ruled the Senate, controlled the Treasury, corre- 
sponded with the conspirators in the provinces, and 
advised their movements. He continued sanguine 
himself, and he poured spirit into others. No one 
can refuse admiration to the last blaze of his expiring 
powers. But when he heard that Antony December 7, 
and Lepidus and Octavius had united, and ^- ^- ^• 
were coming into Italy with the whole Western army, 
he saw that all was over. He was now sixty-three — 
too old for hope. He could hardly have wished to 
live, and this time he was well assured that there 
would be no mercy for him. Caesar would have 
spared a man whom he esteemed in spite of his in- 
firmities. But there was no Csesar now, and fair 
speeches would serve his turn no longer. He retired 
from the city with his brother Quintus, and had some 
half -formed purpose of flying to Brutus, who was still 
in arms in Macedonia. He even embarked, but with- 
out a settled resolution, and he allowed himself to be 



630 Ccesar, 

driven back by a storm. Theatrical even in extremi 
ties, lie thought of returning to Rome and of killing 
himself in Cassar's house, that he might bring the 
curse of his blood upon Octavius. In these uncertain- 
ties he drifted into his own villa at Formiae,^ saying 
in weariness, and with a sad note of his old self-im- 
portance, that he would die in the country which he 
had so often saved. Here, on the 4th of December, 
B. C. 43, Popilius Loenas, an officer of Antony's came 
to find him. Peasants from the neighborhood brought 
news to the villa that the soldiers were approaching. 
His servants thrust him into a litter and carried him 
down through the woods towards the sea. Loenas 
followed and overtook him. To his slaves he had 
been always the gentlest of masters. They would 
have given their lives in his defence if he would have 
allowed them ; but he bade them set the litter down 
and save themselves. He thrust out his head between 
the curtains, and it was instantly struck off. 

So ended Cicero, a tragic combination of magnifi- 
cent talents, high aspirations, and true desire to do 
right, with an infirmity of purpose and a latent insin- 
cerity of character which neutralized and could almost 
make us forget his nobler qualities. It cannot be 
said of Cicero that he was blind to the faults of the 
party to which he attached himself. To him we owe 
our knowledge of what the Roman aristocrats really 
were, and of the hopelessness of expecting that they 
could have been trusted any longer with the adminis- 
tration of the Empire, if the Empire itself was to en- 
dure. Cicero's natural place was at Caesar's side; 
but to Caesar alone of his contemporaries he was con- 
scious of an inferiority which was intolerable to him. 

1 Near Gaeta. 



Character of Cicero. 531 

In his own eyes be was always the first person. He 
had been made unhappy by the thought that posterity 
might rate Pompey above himself. Closer acquaint- 
ance had reassured him about Pompey, but in Caesar 
he was conscious of a higher presence, and he rebelled 
against the humiliating acknowledgment. Supreme 
as an orator he could always be, and an order of things 
was, therefore, most desirable where oratory held the 
highest place. Thus he chose his part with the 
" 5om," whom he despised while he supported them, 
drifting on through vacillation into treachery, till 
" the ingredients of the poisoned chalice " were " com- 
mended to his own lips." 

In Cicero Nature half- made a great man and left 
him uncompleted. Our characters are written in our 
forms, and the bust of Cicero is the key to his his- 
tory. The brow is broad and strong, the nose large, 
the lips tightly compressed, the features lean and 
keen from restless intellectual energy. The loose 
bending figure, the neck, too weak for the weight of 
the head, explain the infirmity of will, the passion, 
the cunning, the vanity, the absence of manliness and 
veracity. He was born into an age of violence with 
which he was too feeble to contend. The gratitude 
of mankind for his literary excellence will forever 
preserve his memory from too harsh a judgment. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

It remains to offer a few general remarks on tlie 
person whose life and actions I have endeavored to 
describe in the preceding pages. 

In all conditions of human society, distinguished 
men are the subjects of legend ; but the character of 
the legend varies with the disposition of the time. 
In ages which we call heroic the saint works miracles, 
the warrior performs exploits beyond the strength 
of natural man. In ages less visionary which are 
given to ease and enjoyment the tendency is to bring 
a great man down to the common level, and to dis- 
cover or invent faults which shall show that he is or 
was but a little man after all. Our vanity is soothed 
by evidence that those who have eclipsed us in the 
race of life are no better than ourselves, or in some 
respects are worse than ourselves ; and if to these 
general impulses be added political or personal an- 
imosity, accusations of depravity are circulated aa 
surely about such men, and are credited as readily, 
as under other influences are the marvellous achieve- 
ments of a Cid or a St. Francis. In the present day 
we reject miracles and prodigies, we are on our guard 
against the mythology of hero worship, just as we 
disbelieve in the eminent superiority of any one of 
our contemporaries to another. We look less curi- 
ously into the mythology of scandal, we accept easily 
and willingly stories disparaging to illustrious per- 
sons in history, because similar stories are told and 



Mythology of Scandal. 533 

retold with so much confidence and fluency among 
the political adversaries of those who have the mis- 
fortune to be their successful rivals. The absurdity 
of a calumny may be as evident as the absurdity of 
a miracle; the ground for belief may be no more 
than a lightness of mind, and a less pardonable wish 
that it may be true. But the idle tale floats in so- 
ciety, and by and by is written down in books and 
passes into the region of established realities. 

The tendency to idolize great men and the ten- 
dency to depreciate them arises alike in emotion ; but 
the slanders of disparagement are as truly legends as 
the wonder-tales of saints and warriors ; and anec- 
dotes related of Caesar at patrician dinner-parties at 
Rome as little deserve attention as the information so 
freel}^ given upon the habits of modern statesmen in^ 
the salons of London and Paris. They are read now 
by us in classic Latin, but they were recorded by men 
who hated C<?esar and hated all that he had done 
and that a poem has survived for two thousand years 
is no evidence that the author of it, even though he 
might be a Catullus, was uninfluenced by the com- 
mon passions of humanity. 

Caesar, it is allowed, had extraordinary talents, ex- 
traordinary energy, and some commendable qualities; 
but he was, as the elder Curio said, " omnium mulie- 
rum vir et omnium virorum mulier ; " he had mis- 
tresses in every country which he visited, and he had 
liaisons with half the ladies in Rome. That Csesar'a 
morality was altogether superior to that of the aver- 
age of his contemporaries is in a high degree improba- 
ble. He was a man of the world, peculiarly attract- 
ive to women, and likely to have been attracted by 
them. On the other hand, the undiscriminating 



634 Ccesar. 

looseness attributed to him would have been pecul- 
iarly degrading in a man whose passions were so 
eminently under control, whose calmness was never 
known to be discomposed, and who, in everything 
which he did, acted always with deliberate will. Still 
worse would it be if, by his example, he made ridicu- 
Icus his own laws against adultery and indulged him- 
self in vices which- he punished in others. What, 
then, is the evidence ? The story of Nicomedes may 
be passed over. All that is required on that subject 
has been already said. It was never heard of before 
Csesar's consulship, and the proofs are no more than 
the libels of Bibulus, the satire of Catullus, and cer- 
tain letters of Cicero's which were never published, 
but were circulated privately in Roman aristocratic 
society.^ A story is suspicious which is first produced 
after twenty years in a moment of political excite- 
ment. Csesar spoke of it with stern disgust. He 
replied to Catullus with an invitation to dinner; 
otherwise he passed it over in silence — the only an- 
swer which an honorable man could give. Suetonius 
quotes a loose song sung by C^esar's soldiers at his 
triumph. We know in what terms British sailors 
often speak of their favorite commanders. Affection, 
when it expresses itself most emphatically, borrows 
the language of its opposites. Who would dream of 
introducing into a serious life of Nelson catches 
chanted in the forcastle of the Victory ? But which 
cf the soldiers sang these verses? Does Suetonius 
mean that the army sang them in chorus as they 
marched in procession ? The very notion is prepos- 
terous. It is proved that during Caesar's lifetime 
Bcandal was busy with his name ; and that it would 

1 Suetonius, Julius Ccesar, 49. 



Ccesars Relations luith Women. 535 

be so busy, whether justified or not, is certain from 
the nature of things. Cicero says that no public man 
in Rome escaped from such imputations. He him- 
self flung them broadcast, and they were equally re- 
turned upon himself. The surprise is rather that 
Caesar's name should have suffered so little, and that 
he should have been admitted on reflection by Sueto- 
nius to have been comparatively free from the abomi- 
nable form of vice which was then so common. 

As to his liaisons with women, the handsome, brill- 
iant Cassar, surrounded by a halo of military glory, 
must have been a Paladin of romance to any woman 
who had a capacity of admiration in her. His own 
distaste for gluttony and hard drinking, and for the 
savage amusements in which the male Romans so 
much delighted, may have made the society of cul- 
tivated ladies more agreeable to him than that of 
men, and if he showed any such preference the 
coarsest interpretation would be inevitably placed 
upon it. These relations, perhaps, in so loose an age 
assumed occasionally a more intimate form ; but it is 
to be observed that the first public act recorded of 
Csesar was his refusal to divorce his wife at Sylla's 
bidding ; that he was passionately attached to his 
sister ; and that his mother, Aurelia, lived with him 
till she died, and that this mother was a Roman ma- 
tron of the strictest and severest type. Many names 
were mentioned in connection with him, yet there is 
no record of any natural child save Brutus, and one 
other whose claims were denied and disproved. 

Two intrigues, it may be said, are beyond dispute. 
His connection with the mother of Brutus was noto- 
rious. Cleopatra, in spite of Oppius, was living with 
him in his house at the time of his murder. That it 



636 Ccesar, 

was so believed a hundred years after his death is, of 
course, indisputable ; but in both these cases the 
story is entangled with legends which show how 
busily imagination had been at work. Brutus was 
said to be Caesar's son, though Caesar was but fifteen 
when he was born ; and Brutus, though he had the 
temper of an Orestes, was devotedly attached to his 
mother in spite of the supposed adultery, and pro- 
fessed to have loved Csesar when he offered him as a 
sacrifice to his country's liberty. Cleopatra is said to^_ 
have joined Caesar at Rome after his return from 
Spain, and to have resided openly with him as his 
mistress. Supposing that she did come to Rome, it 
is still certain that Calpurnia was in Caesar's house 
when he was killed. Cleopatra must have been Cal- 
purnia's guest as well as her husband's ; and her pres- 
ence, however commented upon in society, could not 
possibly have borne the avowed complexion which 
tradition assigned to it. On the other hand, it is 
quite intelligible that the young Queen of Egypt, 
who owed her position to Caesar, might have come, 
as other princes came, on a visit of courtesy, and that 
Caesar after their acquaintance at Alexandria should 
have invited her to stay with him. But was Cleo- 
patra at Rome at all ? The only real evidence for 
her presence there is to be found in a few words of 
Cicero : " Reginse fuga mihi non molesta." — "I am 
not sorry to hear of the flight of the queen." ^ There 
is nothing to show that the "queen" was the Egyp- 
tian queen. Granting that the word Egyptian is to 
be understood, Cicero may have referred to Arsinoe, 
wrho was called Queen as well as her sister, and had 
been sent to Rome to be shown at Caesar's triumph. 

1 To Alticus. xiv. 8. 



Personal Appearance. 537 

But enough and too much on this miserable sub- 
ject. Men will continue to form their opinions about 
it, not upon the evidence, but according to their pre- 
conceived notions of what is probable or improbable. 
Ages of progress and equality are as credulous of evil 
as ages of faith are credulous of good, and reason 
will not modify convictions which do not originate in 
reason. 

Let us pass on to surer ground. 

In person Caesar was tall and slight. His features 
were more refined than was usual in Roman faces ; 
the forehead was wide and high, the nose large and 
thin, the lips full, the eyes dark gray like an eagle's, 
the neck extremely thick and sinewy. His com- 
plexion was pale. His beard and moustache were 
kept carefully shaved. His hair was short and natu- 
rally scanty, falling off towards the end of his life 
and leaving him partially bald. His voice, especially 
when he spoke in public, was high and shrill. His 
health was uniformly strong until his last year, when 
he became subject to epileptic fits. He was a great 
bather, and scrupulously clean in all his habits, ab- 
stemious in his food, and careless in what it consisted, 
rarely or never touching wine, and noting sobriety as 
the highest of qualities when describing any new 
people. He was an athlete in early life, admirable 
in all manly exercises, and especially in riding. In 
Gaul, as has been said already, he rode a remarkable 
horse, which he had bred himself, and which would 
*et no one but Caesar mount him. From his boy- 
hood it was observed of him that he was the truest 
of friends, that he avoided quarrels, and was most 
easilj' appeased when offended. In manner he was 
quiet and gentlemanlike, with the natural courtesy 



538 Ccesar. 

of high breeding. On an occasion when he was din- 
ing somewhere the other guests found the oil too 
rancid for them. Cassar took it without remark, to 
spare his entertainer's feelings. When on a journey 
through a forest with his friend Oppius, he came one 
night to a hut where there was a single bed. Oppius 
being unwell, Caesar gave it up to him, and slept on 
the ground. 

In his public character he may be regarded under 
three aspects, as a politician, a soldier, and a man of 
letters. 

Like Cicero, Caesar entered public life at the bar. 
He belonged by birth to the popular party, but he 
showed no disposition, like the Gracchi, to plunge 
into political agitation. His aims were practical. 
He made war only upon injustice and oppression ; 
and when he commenced as a pleader he was noted 
for the energy with which he protected a client whom 
he believed to have been wronged. At a later period, 
before he was praetor, he was engaged in defending 
Masintha, a young Numidian prince, who had suffered 
some injury from Hiempsal, the father of Juba. Juba 
himself came to Rome on the occasion, bringing with 
him the means of influencing the judges which Ju- 
gurtha had found so effective. C«sar in his indigna- 
tion seized Juba by the beard in the court ; and when 
Masintha was sentenced to some unjust penalty Cse- 
Bar carried him off, concealed him in his house, and 
took him to Spain in his carriage. When he rose 
into the Senate, his powers as a speaker became strik- 
ingly remarkable. Cicero, who often heard him, and 
jvas not a favorable judge, said that there was a preg- 
nancy in his sentences and a dignity in his manner 
which no orator in Rome could approach. But he 



Ccesar as a Statesman, 639 

never spoke to court popularity ; his aim from first 
to last was better government, the prevention of 
bribery and extortion, and the distribution among 
deserving citizens of some portion of the public land 
which the rich were stealing. The Julian laws, which 
excited the indignation of the aristocracy, had no 
other objects than these ; and had they been observed 
they would have saved the constitution. The obsti- 
nacy of faction and the civil war which grew out of it 
obliged him to extend his horizon, to conten^plate 
more radical reforms — a large extension of the privi- 
leges of citizenship, with the introduction of the pro- 
vincial nobility into the Senate, and the transfer of 
the administration from the Senate and annually 
elected magistrates to the permanent chief of the 
army. But his objects throughout were purely prac- 
tical. The purpose of government he conceived to 
be the execution of justice ; and a constitutional lib- 
erty under which justice was made impossible did not 
appear to him to be liberty at all. 

The practicality which showed itself in his general 
aims appeared also in his mode of working. Cassar, 
it was observed, when anything was to be done, se- 
lected the man who was best able to do it, not caring 
particularly who or what he might be in other re- 
spects. To this faculty of discerning and choosing 
fit persons to execute his orders may be ascribed the 
extraordinary success of his own provincial adminis- 
tration, the enthusiasm which was felt for him in the 
North of Italy, and the perfect quiet of Gaul after 
the completion of the conquest. Caesar did not crush 
the Gauls under the weight of Italy. He took the 
best of them into the Roman service, promoted them, 
led them to associate the interests of the Empire with 



540 Ccesar, 

their personal advancement and the prosperity of 
their own people. No act of Caesar's showed more 
sagacity than the introduction of Gallic nobles into 
the Senate ; none was more bitter to the Scipios and 
Metelli, who were compelled to share their august 
privileges with these despised barbarians. 

It was by accident that Caesar took up the profes- 
sion of a soldier; yet perhaps no commander who 
ever lived showed greater military genius. The con- 
quest of Gaul was effected by a force numerically 
insignificant, which was worked with the precision of 
a machine. The variety of uses to which it was car 
pable of being turned implied, in the first place, ex- 
traordinary forethought in the selection of materials. 
Men whose nominal duty was merely to fight were 
engineers, architects, mechanics of the highest order. 
In a few hours they could extemporize an impregna- 
ble fortress on an open hillside. They bridged the 
Rhine in a week. They built a fleet in a month. 
The legions at Alesia held twice their number pinned 
within their works, while they kept at bay the whole 
force of insurgent Gaul, entirely by scientific supe- 
riority. The machine, which was thus perfect, was 
composed of human beings who required supplies of 
tools, and arms, and clothes, and food, and shelter, 
and for all these it depended on the forethought of its 
commander. Maps there were none. Countries en- 
tirely unknown had to be surveyed ; routes had to be 
laid out ; the depths and courses of rivers, the char- 
acter of mountain passes, had all to be ascertained. 
Allies had to be found among tribes as yet unheard 
of. Countless contingent difficulties had to be pro- 
vided for, many of which must necessarily arise, 
<^* ough the exact nature of them could not be antici- 



Ccesar as a Soldier. 541 

pated. When room for accidents is left open, acci- 
dents do nob fail to be heard of. But Csesar was 
never defeated when personally present, save once at 
Gergovia, and once at Durazzo; and the failure at 
Gergovia was caused by the revolt of the -ZEdui ; and 
the manner in which the failure at Durazzo was re- 
trieved showed Caesar's greatness more than the most 
brilliant of his victories. He was rash, but with a 
calculated rashness, which the event never failed to 
justify. His greatest successes were due to the ra- 
pidity of his movements, which brought him on the 
enemy before they heard of his approach. He trav- 
elled sometimes a hundred miles a day, reading or 
writing in his carriage, through countries without 
/oads, and crossing rivers without bridges. No ob- 
stacles stopped him when he had a definite end in 
view. In battle he sometimes rode ; but he was 
more often on foot, bareheaded, and in a conspicuous 
dress, that he might be seen and recognized. Again 
and again by his own efforts he recovered a day that 
was half lost. He once seized a panic-stricken stand- 
ard-bearer, turned him round, and told him that he 
had mistaken the direction of the enemy. He never 
misled his army as to an enemy's strength, or if he 
misstated their numbers it was only to exaggerate. 
In Africa, before Thapsus, when his ofl&cers were ner- 
vous at the reported approach of Juba, he called them 
together and said briefly, " You will understand that 
tVithin a day King Juba will be here with ten legions, 
thirty thousand horse, a hundred thousand skirmish- 
ers, and three hundred elephants. You are not to 
think or ask questions. I tell you the truth, and you 
must prepare for it. If any of you are alarmed I 
shall send you home." 



642 Ccesar. 

Yet he was singularly careful of his soldiers. He 
allowed his legions rest, though he allowed none to 
himself. He rarely fought a battle at a disadvan- 
tage. He never exposed his men to unnecessary 
danger, and the loss by wear and tear in the cam- 
paigns in Gaul was exceptionably and even astonish- 
ingly slight. When a gallant action was performed, 
he knew by whom it had been done, and every sol- 
dier, however humble, might feel assured that if he 
deserved praise he would have it. The army was 
Caesar's family. When Sabinus was cut off, he al- 
lowed his beard to grow, and he did not shave it till 
the disaster was avenged. If Quintus Cicero had 
been his own child, he could not have run greater 
personal risk to save him when shut up at Charleroy. 
In discipline he was lenient to ordinary faults, and 
not careful to make curious inquiries into such things. 
He liked his men to enjoy themselves. Military mis- 
takes in his officers too he always endeavored to 
excuse, never blaming them for misfortunes, unless 
there had been a defect of courage as well as judg- 
ment. Mutiny and desertion only he never over- 
looked. And thus no general was ever more loved 
by, or had greater power over, the army which served 
under him. He brought the insurgent 10th legion 
into submission by a single word. When the Civil 
War began and Labienus left him, he told all his 
officers who had served under Pompey that they 
were free to follow if they wished. Not another 
man forsook him. 

Suetonius says that he was rapacious, that he plun- 
dered tribes in Spain who were allies of Rome, that 
he pillaged shrines and temples in Gaul, and de- 
stroy ed cities merely for spoil. He adds a story 



Ccesar as a Soldier. 543 

which Cicero would not haye left untold and uncom- 
mented on if he had been so fortunate as to hear of 
it : that Csesar when first consul took three thousand 
pounds weight of gold out of the Capitol and re- 
placed it with gilded brass. A similar story is told 
of the Cid and of other heroes of fiction. How came 
Cicero to be ignorant of an act which, if done at all, 
was done under his own eyes ? When praetor Caesar 
brought back money from Spain to the treasury ; but 
he was never charged at the time with peculation or 
oppression there. In Gaul the war paid its own ex- 
penses ; but what temples were there in Gaul which 
were worth spoiling? Of temples he was, indeed, 
scrupulously careful. Varro had taken gold from the 
Temple of Hercules at Cadiz. Csesar replaced * it. 
Metellus Scipio had threatened to plunder the Tem- 
ple of Diana at Ephesus. Caesar protected it. In 
Gaul the Druids were his best friends ; therefore he 
certainly had not outraged religion there ; and the 
quiet of the province during the Civil War is a suflfi- 
cient answer to the accusation of gratuitous oppres- 
sion. 

The Gauls paid the expenses of their conquest in 
the prisoners taken in battle, who were sold to the 
slave merchants ; and this is the real blot on Caesar's 
career. But the blot w.as not personally upon Cae- 
sar, but upon the age in which he lived. The great 
Fomponius Atticus himself was a dealer in human 
vihattels. That prisoners of war should be sold as 
slaves was the law of the time, accepted alike by 
victors and vanquished ; and the crowds of libertini 
who assisted at Caesar's funeral proved that he was 
not regarded as the enemy of these unfortunates, but 
as their special friend. 



.644 Ocesar, 

His leniency to the Pompeian faction has alieady 
been spoken of sufficiently. It may have been pol- 
itic, but it arose also from the disposition of the man. 
Cruelty originates in fear, and Caesar was too indiffer- 
ent to death to fear anything. So far as his p*. blic 
action was concerned, he betrayed no passion save 
hatred of injustice ; and he moved through life calm 
and irresistible, like a force of nature. 

Cicero has said of Cesar's oratory that he surpassed 
those who had practised no other art. His praise of 
him as a man of letters is yet more delicately and 
gracefully emphatic. Most of his writings are lost; 
but there remain seven books of commentaries on the 
wars in Gaul (the eighth was added by another 
hand), and three books upon the Civil War, contain- 
ing an account of its causes and history. Of these it 
was that Cicero said, in an admirable image, that 
fools might think to improve on them, but that no 
wise man would try it ; they were nudi omni ornatu 
orationis^ tanquam veste detractd — bare of ornament, 
the dress of style dispensed with, like an undraped 
human figure perfect in all its lines as nature made 
it. In his composition, as in his actions, Csesar is en- 
tirely simple. He indulges in no images, no labored 
descriptions, no conventional reflections. His art is 
unconscious, as the highest a^rt always is. The act- 
ual fact of things stands out as it really was, not aa 
mechanically photographed, but interpreted by the 
calmest intelligence, and described with unexagger- 
ated feeling. No military narrative has approached 
the excellence of the history of the war in Gaul. 
Nothing is written down which could be dispensed 
with; nothing important is left untold ; while the in- 
cidents themselves are set off by delicate and just ob- 



GcBhar as a Man of Letters. 645 

eervations on human character. The story is ren- 
dered attractive by complimentary anecdotes of per- 
sons ; while details of the character and customs of 
an unknown and remarkable people show the atten- 
tion which Csesar was always at leisure to bestow on 
anything which was worthy of interest, even when 
he was surrounded with danger and difficulty. The 
books on the Civil War have the same simplicity and 
clearness, but a vein runs through them of strong if 
subdued emotion. They contain the history of a 
great revolution related by the principal actor in it; 
but no effort can be traced to set his own side in a 
favorable light, or to abuse or depreciate his adversa- 
ries. The coarse invectives which Cicero poured so 
freely upon those who differed from him are conspic- 
uously absent. Caesar does not exult over his tri- 
umphs or parade the honesty of his motives. The 
facts are left to tell their own story ; and the gallantry 
and endurance of his own troops are not related with 
more feeling than the contrast between the confident 
hopes of the patrician leaders at Pharsalia and the 
luxury of their camp with the overwhelming disaster 
which fell upon them. About himself and his own 
exploits there is not one word of self-complacency or 
self-admiration. In his writings, as in his life, Caesar 
is always the same — direct, straightforward, un- 
moved save by occasional tenderness, describing with 
unconscious simplicity how the work which had been 
forced upon him was accomplished. He wrote with 
extreme rapidity in the intervals of other labor ; yet 
there is not a word misplaced, not a sign of haste any- 
where, save that the conclusion of the Gallic war was 
^ft to be supplied by a weaker hand. The Commen- 
taries, as an historical narrative, are as far superior to 

35 



546 Ccesar. 

any other Latin composition of the kind as the person 
of Caesar himself stands out among the rest of his con- 
temporaries. 

His other compositions have perished, in conse- 
quence, perhaps, of the unforgiving republican senti- 
ment which revived among men of letters after the 
death of "Augustus — which rose to a height in tho 
" Pharsalia " of Lucan — and which leaves so visible 
a mark in the writings of Tacitus and Suetonius. 
There was a book, "De Analogic," written by Caesar 
after the conferonce at Lucca, during the passage of 
the Alps. There was a book on the Auspices, which, 
coming from the head of the Roman religion, would 
have thrown a light much to be desired on this curi- 
ous subject. In practice Caesar treated the auguries 
with contempt. He carried his laws in open disre- 
gard of them. He fought his battles careless whether 
the sacred chickens would eat or the calves' livers 
were of the proper color. His own account of such 
things in his capacity of Pontifex would have had a 
singular interest. 

From the time of his boyhood he kept a common- 
place book, in which he entered down any valuable 
or witty sayings, inquiring carefully, as Cicero takes 
pains to tell us, after any smart observation of his 
own. Niebuhr remarks that no pointed sentences of 
Caesar's can have come down to us. Perhaps he had 
no gift that way, and admired in others what he did 
not possess. 

He left in verse " an account of the stars " — some 
practical almanac, probably, in a shape to be easily 
remembered ; and there was a journal in verse also, 
written on the return from Munda. Oi all the lost 
writings, however, the most to be regretted is the 



How Coesar should he estimated, 547 

*' Anti-Cato." After Cato's death Cicero published 
a panegyric upon him. To praise Cato was to con- 
demn Csesar ; and Caesar rephed with a sketch of the 
Martyr of Utica as he had himself known him. The 
pamphlet, had it survived, would have shown how far 
Caesar was able to extend the forbearance so conspicu- 
ous in his other writings to the most respectable and 
the most inveterate of his enemies. The verdict of 
fact and the verdict of literature on the- great contro- 
versy between them have been summed up in the 
memorable line of Lucan — 

yictrix causa Deis placuit, sed victa Catoni. 

Was Cato right, or were the gods right ? Perhaps 
both. There is a legend that at the death of Charles 
V. the accusing angel appeared in heaven with a 
catalogue of deeds which no advocate could palliate 
— countries laid desolate, cities sacked and burnt, 
lists of hundreds of thousands of widows and children 
brought to misery by the political ambition of a single 
man. The evil spirit demanded the offender's soul, 
and it seemed as if mercy itself could not refuse him 
the award. But at the last moment the Supreme 
Judge interfered. The Emperor, He said, had been 
sent into the world at a peculiar time, for a peculiar 
purpose, and was not to be tried by the ordinary 
rules. Titian has painted the scene : Charles kneel- 
ing before the Throne, with the consciousness, as be- 
came him, of human infirmities, written upon his 
countenance, yet neither afraid nor abject, relying in 
absolute faith that the Judge of all mankind would 
do right. 

Of Csesar too it may be said that he came into the 
world at a special time and for a special object. The 



548 Ocesar, 

old religions were dead, from the Pillars of Hercules 
to the Euphrates and the Nile, and the principles on 
which human society had been constructed were dead 
also. There remained of spiritual conyiction only 
the common and human sense of justice and moral- 
ity; and out of this sense some ordered system of 
government had to be constructed, under which quiet 
men could live and labor and eat the fruit of their 
industry. Under a rule of this material kind there 
can be no enthusiasm, no chivalry, no saintly aspira- 
tions, no patriotism of the heroic type. It was not 
to last forever. A new life was about to dawn for 
mankind. Poetry, and faith, and devotion were to 
spring again out of the seeds which were sleeping in 
the heart of humanity. But the life which is to en- 
dure grows slowly ; and as the soil must be prepared 
before the wheat can be sown, so before the Kingdom 
of Heaven could throw up its shoots there was needed 
a kingdom of this world where the nations were 
neither torn in pieces by violence nor were rushing 
after false ideals and spurious ambitions. Such a 
kingdom was the Empire of the Csesars — a kingdom 
where peaceful men could work, think, and speak as 
they pleased, and travel freely among provinces ruled 
for the most part by Gallios who protected life and 
property, and forbade fanatics to tear each other in 
pieces for their religious opinions. "It is not lawful 
for us to put any man to death," was the complaint 
of the Jewish priests to the Roman governor. Had 
Europe and Asia been covered with independent na- 
tions, each with a local religion represented in its 
ruhng powers, Christianity must have been stifled in 
its cradle. If St. Paul had escaped the Sanhedrim at 
Jemsalem, he would have been torn to pieces by the 



The Kingdom of this World. 549 

silversmiths at Epliesus. The appeal to Caesar's 
judgment-seat was the shield of his mission, and alone 
made possible his success. 

And this spirit, which confined government to its 
simplest duties, while it left opinion unfettered, was 
especially present in Julius Csesar himself. From 
cant of all kinds he was totally free. He was a friend 
of the people, but he indulged in no enthusiasm for 
liberty. He never dilated on the beauties of virtue, 
or complimented, as Cicero did, a Providence in which 
he did not believe. He was too sincere to stoop to 
unreality. He held to the facts of this life and to 
his own coi^victions ; and as he found no reason for 
supposing 3hat there was a life beyond the grave he 
did not pretend to expect it. He respected the re- 
ligion of the Roman State as an institution estab- 
lished by the laws. He encouraged or left unmolested 
the creeds and practices of the uncounted sects or 
tribes who were gathered under the eagles. But his 
own writings contain nothing to indicate that he him- 
self had any religious belief at all. He saw no evi- 
dence that the gods practically interfered in human 
affairs. He never pretended that Jupiter was on his 
side. He thanked his soldiers after a victory, but he 
did not order Te Deums to be sung for it ; and in the 
absence of these conventionalisms he perhaps showed 
more real reverence than he could have displayed by 
the freest use of the formulas of pietism. 

He fought his battles to establish some tolerable 
degree of justice in the government of this world ; 
and he succeeded, though he was murdered for doing 
it. 

Strange and startling resemblance between the fate 
of the founder of the kingdom of this world and of 



650 



Coesar, 



the Founder of the kingdom not of this world, for 
which the first was a preparation. Each was de- 
nounced for making himself a king. Each was ma- 
ligned as the friend of publicans and sinners; each 
was betrayed by those whom he had loved and cared 
for ; each was put to death ; and Csesar also was be- 
lieved to have risen again and ascended into heaven 
and become a divine being. 




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